


Stones for the weary

by Whaler



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Altered lore and magic system, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at philosophy about religion, Corvo needs to decide, Dishonored 2 as Corvo, Dunwall is a bad place to live, Happy Ending, Low Chaos (Dishonored), M/M, Magic, Many die, Post-Dishonored: Death of the Outsider, Sweet love through hardships, The Ousider's past, The Outsider Needs a Hug, The Outsider fights for real at last, just a bit though, more time dedicated to original characters than I would've thought
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-07-07 07:02:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 71,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15903273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whaler/pseuds/Whaler
Summary: The Outsider got his life back, but nothing in this world is for free. Especially if even you don't know yourself."Because if you can choose for a purpose, you will choose carefully. Like I chose a man I find joy in… Like if you want to make a god, one that lives forever and can form this world as he likes, you won’t choose just anyone – not a random kid from the streets.”





	1. Sleeping man

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> I read on this site for years now and just for now just for you let me please present my first own work! *Yaaaa!*  
> Well, my first work here at least, and - and that's the important part - in english! That's right, my first work not in my native language. (I'm only slightly terrified.)  
> Sooooo I appreciate the correction of grammar, tenses etz, you know. It's not beta-ed (because I don't have anyone to ask *sights*)
> 
> I love the Dishonored series, the Outsider, and I'm pretty sure he will be a strong, cynical but good man in the future. Who kicks ass. Definitely kicks ass. Although this here, now will be a dark story with blood and doubt.
> 
> Please enjoy...

The Void

 

 

The Void wasn’t alive like a beating heart isn’t alive on its electrodes, and like a fistful of soft brain isn’t alive in a jar although impulses run through it.

No, the Void wasn’t alive, but it cared little about these faint differences of interpretation. It grow complex, became the scaffold of the universe with its billion fingers, thorns and eyes. Became the palms holding everything and sometimes it closed its fist to watch the world change. It was nothing but a toy, nothing but grime on the glasses.

And although the Void wasn’t alive it got bored in a few thousand years. It hummed a song for its own delight and the whales answered it from the other side of reality. It fell in love with whales, started to watch the world through their eyes, tasting the matter and physics through their skin.

It mimicked the world always twisting something on it: a marvelous, new, exciting activity.

And although it wasn’t alive, it started to steal from the world everything that spiked its fancy: shiny ghosts, bloodthirsty beasts, old whales with heart crushing songs. It fancied the terror of the world, found delight in the pain of the living, in the cries of the doomed and rejoiced the agony of death because it was unable to understand life.

To his old age it became headstrong, cranky and sentimental. It set the rules, wrote the chants, the liturgies, draw the runes, set the pace. It played with its power and demanded sacrifice, demanded amusement, demanded obedience.

But as the centuries passed all this became unsatisfactory. So it broke its head through the wall of the living spilling its gathered terror and magic to the land, destroying almost all living with a beating heart. It immersed in fear, blood, saw the pain of love – and met _them_ in the end.

The ones who stopped it.

That changed the way things were before and the magic of the chosen altered the world forever, creating life from the ruins. The Void calmed then for a time: toyed with its monsters, talked to them and watched the humans –

– up to a few hours ago, when it met silence again.

And now the Void, although it wasn’t alive, got up again in anger and confusion. It reached into the world through its wounds oozing into reality, bringing darkness and terror with it – looking for them.

 

*

 

The darkness came as a cyclone: rose from the ocean, morphed into angry black clouds gripping lightning and burping thunder, hiding shadows with fangs and talons, carrying disasters only the legends talked about.

Some sailor saw it forming, opening the eyes, looking down the world without mercy or concern. It had plague as teeth, fire as mouth, human cruelty as cheeks and the ocean rose below it, begging for its whales.

Nobody prayed for humans.

The sailors watching this all across the ocean snatched they caps, fell to their knees and cried for the god they know. But the skies were empty – and the darkness deemed them sacrifice.

Later they will die, some of them will drown slowly in the salty water tasting fish and bile, fighting with creatures and hands grabbing they feet pulling and letting go… pulling… tearing their flesh and skin, dissecting them to pieces. The waves will tower over them, crushing the ships and boats, and will reach down into them raping their throats, gripping and pulling things never should’ve been gripped and pulled – giving even death for a high price.

The others will pray for an end as merciful as this.

In a few hours, without hope to escape, without a soul even to hear them.

And time was ticking.

 

*

Meagan 

 

 

Meagan wasn’t awakened by the growling rain or the wind that got enervated wandering around among the slum ‘houses’, jogging the windows. There was something more disturbing in her dreams that she couldn’t – and didn’t want to – evoke. She tasted something gross in her mouth laced with the memory of saltwater and fears. And still she was sure it had something to do with that damn _place_ , that damn mining camp, those motherfucking envisioned and cultists, that fucking black stone and figure that she cannot unseen ever again. The Void. That eye. A man frozen into time.

She wasn’t sure she could feel safe ever again.

She inhaled her stale pillow and wished not for the first time for a different life: a house with music and walls that didn’t get damp in the rain. This all was temporary – she told herself, but was cynical enough not to believe it. Billie Lurk once had a life and Meagan had a ship, but Billie burned that ship in the memory of Daud, and later died herself refusing Daud’s last wish. But Meagan rescued a young man from a sect. Meagan was a tough girl. And now she had nothing.

A week has passed since then.

She opened her eyes and watched the faint lights in the middle of the room. She wasn’t alone.

“They called it the Touch of the Void. They brought people there in their physical forms, presented they like…” He shook hi had with a confused scowl, looking unusually human. “It left them empty, unable to reconnect to the world. Some of them died.”

“Who were they?”

Grey eyes – green, dependent on the lights – lifted to hers. “Can’t remember.”

He sounded more frustrated than sad.

He wasn’t a man she expected: wasn’t lost or alien, wasn’t speaking funny or behaving strange, wasn’t marveling at small, mundane things and he knew how to live a day to day life. Four thousand years watching and even if it was something he did for the first time, he had the self-confidence and the knowledge to do it without a pause.

She couldn’t tell if he was the same as god, had been met him only a few times, but he was an enviably strong man now with dark humor and a clever mind. He got tired quickly – but slept and ate little – that was all, and the memories... She wasn’t brave enough to ask him what he remembers.

“That’s what you are afraid of? Gaining a life just to not live it?”

He smiled without warmth. “What is the criterion of living a life, young lady? What expectations one needs to meet?” He asked it poetically, but continued calmly. ”I have seen more life, Meagan, than drop in the ocean. Some could choose, some couldn’t, some chose a life buried in books and cushions and some were forced in the mines dying young, or they wandered the world through all ordeal whether they chose it or not… Does one choice worth more than the others? Is one type of life life-er than the others?” He smiled again. “There is nobody out there who cares” he said meaning the Void. ”and never was.”

That didn’t answer any question, but it hardly mattered anyway. He just got free, it was fine not knowing, it was fine living in the moment. She was the one feeling insecure, feeling like she had to rush life after the stillness of the Void. She was the one being afraid of not living enough not being happy enough before the stillness got permanent with those black rocks, with that dense nothing.

Maybe she was the one the Outsider meant being unable to get back to the real world after the Void’s touch.

When she spoke again the Outsider was watching his hands, immersed in his thoughts. Contemplating, but with a determination on his face that made him look almost too powerful.

“Do you want to meet him?”

He hesitated. For a few second only the sound of the rain and the wind could be heard, footsteps from the upper floors, angry noises.

“You asking this now as we weren’t already in Dunwall.”

Yes, in the slums, in a dark hole in the ground with one window to the boots of others, to watch the bellies of the rats, hiding from the Abbey. Making a dangerous decision for what? Now they were in a house with two damp mattresses and a lamp, with old grime on the floor and handprints on the walls… A poster of Delilah tore in half.

The boy he was back then couldn’t choose, but now she wished to grant him a chance, wished to offer him a life worth living – whatever he said about worth. He maybe didn’t deserve it, but Meagan also didn’t deserve many good things happened to her in her life.

She _gave life_ to this man and she craved to give a good one – and hoped for peace for both of them.

“Yet now you seem unsure about this.” the Outsider leaned back to the wall.

“Yes or no question, answer it!”

“Are you afraid of what he will say?

She wasn’t, because she saw his mark – the name – and the haunted look in his eye. Not the same as in Daud’s: his was weary from pain and longing, watching the ocean for hours, cradling the runes in his hand like some last mementos… whilst Daud was blaming the wrong man.

She wasn’t sure he would help, but was certain he would want to know.

“Are you?” she asked back to humor him, but those green eyes were on her again contemplating. And then she realized that although he would want to know, he may have chosen differently. He still could’ve. That man could’ve doomed both of them.

“I want to meet him.”

 

 

*

Adeline

 

 

Adeline was a witch who got caught, one of the last members of the Coven, one of the last followers of Delilah. Not one of the high-ups, but an outstanding idealist, a strong willed little thing, who impressed the great woman enough to teach her personally, when she still lived in Karnaca. She was a young lady even now, clinging to the remnants of her powers that ebbed but never disappeared after whatever happened to Delilah.

The Overseers got her when she was lying unconsciously on the floor of the Royal Observatory, and she got shipped to Dunwall a week after Delilah’s death with the rest of her closely related followers.

The rest was left in Karnaca for the mercy of the Abbey just as they all were before. They got branded, beaten up, raped, starved and mutilated, tortured for hours and days without even a question to answer. She lost an arm and her nose only leaving with her eyes, because the ship had to leave a day before planned.

She swore not to show weakness to these monsters ever again.

Dunwall wasn’t much better, but if nothing else there were bigger cases than her, earning Adeline some rest at last and time for her ribs and leg to heal. The noises of torment were constant though, the screams echoing through the hallways: whip snaps, the sizzling sound of white-hot metal touching skin – finding hers sometimes.

And during all that she remained mute. Unbreakable even when the music boxes made her ears bleed, and her mind soften.

Her powers gave her strength. Her connection to the higher powers made her brave, her confidence in that she was the one right, the one living a life humans were meant for – living with the Void and its divinity – made her hold on through all what human cruelty and revenge could offer.

Then almost three months after Delilah’s death her powers disappeared. She was sitting in a corner hugging her knees with her remaining hand when she _felt_ the connection break.

“Nononononono…!” She screamed trying to leap up, but hadn’t had enough strength and fell to the floor. “What’ve you done, what’ve you motherfuckers done!?” she cried, beating the floor with her fist in frustration.

And she wasn’t the only one. The prison roared and cried up in that moment, reaching for a power, a part of them that couldn’t be found anymore -- as did the rest of the world.

Magic was gone – and that finally shattered Adeline’s very soul.

 

 

*

Corvo

 

 

Corvo Attano was frowning at the bleary black and with pictures at his hand scraping his beard. He wouldn’t have known what he was looking at if the representative of the sailors wouldn’t have explained it.

“We’ve foun’ them the mornin’ with the arrivin’ tide.” the man said grasping his hat in his hand. “Dead. Well, as ya can see, Sire… mostly in pieces and like tha’… like they’ve molted ‘n’ merged.”

He didn’t really mind the bad quality of the pictures then, getting tired of corpses and bloodshed. His men were still cleaning the blood of the Overseers and civilians from the walls after Delilah short reign. Whoever she was, she had been brutally efficient leaving Dunwall in fear, anger, agony, and with dozens of hiding witches for the Overseers to take revenge on.

Could this be the work of one of those? – he asked himself. Didn’t seem possible, but wouldn’t be his first time to misjudge something or someone – he thought remembering his traitorous soldiers, the Loyalist, Sokolov... Meagan. Maybe he really was getting old and useless.

He looked at the pictures again: the dark mass floating on the surface with hands and stumps sticking out, heads buried into intestines, weaved around like pearls in river krusts. This all looked like a kelp island only out of human flesh: the bodies inseparable, uncountable, bleached in the water. Molted and merged – the sailor was right.

“Like those wax pupp’s on fire… Ya should see them to... well, see. Not like I wish anyone to look a’ them. Monstrous. The work of the black eyed demon fo’ sure, ain’t no natural creature capable o’ this.”

But was it? – he pondered. – Did the Outsider move on so fast again, tormenting sailors and fishermen for some reason now? He remembered the last time he saw the god: those eyes, words… He was a phenomenon bringing misery where he went, but this was different: this was cruelty without remorse or reflection. Not a work of a god appreciating fineness and cleverness.

“The city watch has gathered the remnants” interjected the guard captain standing still so far at the wall stepping closer now. “We brought them to a near warehouse now abandoned and try to… well; keep the Abbey away as long as we can.”

The city didn’t need yet another witch hunt. He nodded approvingly.

“Found anything?”

“No. My men are struggling to count the bodies. I can’t even tell yet how many we are talking about.”

“Could this be the remnant of Delilah’s purge?”

“Anything possible at this point, but… they seem too fresh for that. A week in the water top, maybe.”

“Close down the west harbor then and keep me posted! I trust you with this” he said to the captain “talk to the sailors and don’t let the city hear the details about it. I will look into it.”

The two man left, leaving the pictures and the reports behind. He re-read them again and again, analyzing the pictures, focusing on the details, possible inconsistencies, the way the bodies were… whatever happened to them. He felt a distant familiarity looking at the photo that reached way back than his own life and experience, like he saw something like this on a painting, or in a tale before. He needed to talk to the witches, the sailors, and just maybe this was the beginning of something that would warrant the reappearance of a certain god.

He wished for it and he didn’t. He felt too old for this kind of pain: the last three month, the last fourteen years…

_“...in the tower where you and Jessamine fell in love.” –_ The last thing he said. Not even a farewell this time.

A knock on the door, he pushed the documents aside.

“Excuse me, my Lord!” one of his servants came, bowing deeply. “There are visitors looking for you: a woman named Meagan Foster and a friend of hers. It is not at utmost importance, but they wish to speak to you as soon as possible.”

“Meagan you say.”

“Yes, she calls themself old friends of yours.”

Speaking of the devil. Meagan Foster, Billie Lurk, former lieutenant of Daud, former ally of his, friend of Sokolov – who he assumed to be the friend Meagan mentioned. A scholar he kidnapped and locked up once then rescued. The appearance of those two didn’t mean any good and he prayed for them not to have anything to do with the bodies at the harbor.

Or well... maybe in a good sense. That would mean a shitstorm again though. It was too big of a coincidence, anyway.

“Escort them here!”

The servant bowed and left. He watched the palace garden from the window of his office as he waited: the devastated roses, ruined statues and ornaments. He could still see the corpses if he closed his eyes hanging on the lampposts and pillars, the burned piles. The smell engrained itself into the walls and made its presence at the least appropriate moments. Just like every cling made him look for clockwork soldiers left behind somehow.

One month. He almost lost his daughter again and a whole empire with her. And maybe it was the age talking, but fuck the empire. Fuck this damn thing. Who would he miss? The Abbey? Those who…

“My Lord, may I present your visitors Lady Foster and…” But he didn’t hear anything else like his mind stopped working, like the world itself stopped for a second. Before him stood a man taking off a hat looking just like the Outsider without the pitch black eyes and unnatural paleness. Green-grey. A small mischievous smile.

He moved closer and so did the man, almost circling each other.

“Leave!” he said to the servant, not losing eye contact for a moment.

Still smiling, but the eyes were serious, brave with a challenge, sizing him up. Are you brave enough to recognize me? The twitch of a brow, a raise of the chin, the small motions memorized and never forgotten...

I am. I am brave enough. – But no sound came.

A flash of the eye, a wider smile, honest this time.

“Do I even have to say it… my dear Corvo? You have an Empress at last.”

 

 

*

Envisioned

 

 

The place where the kid got sacrificed was lost forever in the Void – it stole it like its precious things. It was a place and point in time that made it feel excited; and it got a new toy with it, new eyes, and a way to interact. Delilah was the only one being able to find it, touch it, outside its owner. Now she was dead – less with a problem.

But the two of them weren’t the only ones going in and out- and the altar and its surroundings weren’t the only places swallowed up. The place where the kid got imprisoned became a static point in the Void: an open wound interweaved with the physical world.

The cultists visited that place going mad slowly, killing any stray soul; and the big ones, the ancients, the Envisioned, who once were gripping the knife and watching, chanting kept watch over the kid. He was the rivet holding the two side of reality together.

This far. Until that ghost, the woman and the kid, who they never saw outside the black rocks, shattered the plan.

And now the two side started to separate from each other slowly.

The Void was searching, coughing up monsters, but the kid was gone, the invention crumbling.

The woman made a mistake though, and now the envisioned and the cultists, who were knocked out from the power of his deliverance, woke. Weaker, the curse keeping them alive vibrating and fading, but not less determined than four millennia ago. Not less righteous and not less hungry either.

They watched the place now empty, the magic dispersing, the whales singing, and the wound scarring. They gave their lives for the world; they wouldn’t let it slip from their fingers, not now, not ever.

The kid was out there, still sleeping. They felt him far away, in a city big enough to hide him, but wounded enough to hate him.

They just had to get to him.

They just needed to kill him again.

Before he woke up.

Before it was too late.

 

 

*

 Corvo

 

 

Meagan told Corvo the story: the seeking of Daud, getting the artifacts, the powers, finding _that place,_ the Shindaery Mining Camp – who would’ve thought – the decision, persuading Daud, freeing the Outsider and the few days after, the surprisingly calm voyage to Dunwall.

He listened to her, but couldn’t tear his eyes from the man walking around in his office with those measured footsteps – on those long legs – touching his things. He run his fingers on the book spines, picked up the small gadgets examining them, read into the folders, pulled the photos of the dead from the bottom of the pile.

Their eyes met then, but he didn’t say anything, keeping silent the whole time, letting Meagan talk, not interjecting even when the woman gave a pause exactly for that.

The Outsider didn’t do silence, and Corvo felt at loss. He wanted to ask so many questions, making sure this man before him is certainly the man Meagan says he is. It was so surreal, so… How? Why? And although Meagan was explaining exactly that, it still felt like she just wouldn’t answer the questions for the life of her.

“Why did you come?” He asked maybe harsher than he intended, looking at the god.

“I thought you would want to know” Megan answered “; after everything that happened.”

I.

After everything. Marking him twice. Watching him saving the empire twice. Leaving twice. He shouldn’t have been angry or disappointed, but the continued silence from the Outsider drove him crazy.

He let them stay, gave them rooms, residences rather – his former to the man for some strange urge – and left them. He needed some time to think, to assess the situation, to bury his disappointment. Damn, this was a lot to handle… He was used to taking care of dire situations, only this wasn’t dire. Unexpected, yes, uncertain, yes, unwanted, maybe, it depended on the next move, the next – first – few words.

The Outsider’s presence roused the _feelings_ , and as much as he was excellent with a sleep dart, he didn’t know how to handle those _._ Not with Jessamine, not during the rat plague, not in Karnaca, and definitely not now with that man in his room watching his things, making himself at home.

Emily called him a cold man, just as Jessamine did. They were not wrong and now...

He never thought about this possibility, nobody in his circles. Turning a god into a man, killing one… Something like that was impossible, unimaginable. They were taught that the Void and the Outsider were one, inseparable from the down of civilization. He knew this not to be quite right, but again, separating the two, giving him a life – his life back…

It was an incomprehensible deed. Impossible. Heresy – though he wasn’t even a believer, not like in the terms of the Abbey anyway.

But the man was there, in all his might, silent, and there were _feelings_ he just couldn’t put in their places try as he might. As the old, grumpy man he became. Fourteen years. Three months.

There would’ve been things to do: investigating the harbor, talking to the witches, dealing with his everyday tasks as Lord Protector, with the blow Delilah left on the city. The Abbey hanged her skin above the main gate. He wished that gone.

But nothing has been done that day. Corvo was sitting at his desk imitating work or not even that, just sitting above the papers and thinking about a man walking a few floors above him; while he was hyperaware of every passing second.

“My Lord,” came a servant bowing deeply “her Majesty is asking if you care to join her for dinner with your guests.”

“I’m afraid my guests are too exhausted from the journey, but I’ll be there right away.”

He didn’t wanted Emily near the Outsider, not right off anyway. And the Abbey… what will he do with the Abbey?

He was heading to the dining room, lost in thought. He could almost hear Emily’s questions: who are they, why are they here? Are they the ones have been helping you in Karnaca? When can I meet them? Why are you so distressed, father? Isn’t he waiting for you?

And maybe he was. Hopefully. Perhaps.

The Outsider came to him, and that must’ve meant something. Emily’s voice in his head was right: this issue won’t sort itself out on its own. Being afraid wasn’t a solution. And what was he afraid of anyway?

The possibility.

He was afraid of the possibility.

And that also didn’t solve anything.

He entrusted a servant with a message to Emily about a change of plans, and headed to the upper floors.

 

 

*

 

 

Doctor Mangould tried to dissect the mass of bodies. Two more molted human meatloaf emerged since that morning and they were short of doctors and physicians without Abbey connections willing able of investigation.

The Overseers employed every doctor in the city being capable to stomach mutilated dead bodies. That was the most serious requirement. One of his less capable former student got to work there although he couldn’t even sew a wound.

Priorities.

But doctor Mangould wasn’t interested in that at the moment, engaged in the morbid formation before him with all his attention. He never worked for the Abbey and was secretly proud of that. Now he was watching the plain, nest-like mass of flesh, mulling over the possibilities. Some of the braver city guards were gathering around him looking over his shoulder curiously. He couldn't blame them; this – in a way – really was interesting.

The doctor checked his mask and gloves before touching the thing. He was the only one wearing protection – not like it mattered.

The heads seemed like the obvious choice for counting the bodies, except there were too many hands there and although he wasn’t exactly sure in that, there felt like to be too many intestines. He pulled one of the heads and it came out surprisingly easily, like it was only an egg in the nest, sank into the braid of flesh. Skin gone, eyes gone, some of the brain tissue penetrated into the eye sockets already in the state of decomposition. Teeth were gone too, skin hard and tanned from salt water…

The guards were disgusted, asked questions obvious for a doctor but he answered them anyway patiently.

Who could do such thing? _How? –_ He had no idea.

The heads got put away one after another: making a bizarre line on a former conveyor. Doctor Mangould investigated the rest of the mess, touching, pushing the thing all over, and looking for bones, spines, some things not belonging there, for any clue or explanation.

The only thing he found was the teeth deep in the tissue.

He had to ask for a saw and secateurs to be able to separate the arms and legs from the mess. Some guards helped. The late torsos and limbs were merged in a way they never would’ve existed: leg with shoulder, -with stomach, -with leg, arms with each other, -with backs,-asses. They all were entwined with intestines as if they were strings keeping the _boat_ together.

Some skin missing from here too. And no answers.

The doctor decided then to cut the core open. His scalpel moved with difficulties through the hardened meat, but deeper it felt different… like it was hollow.

The alarming thought came too late. The fluids gushing out of the inner abscesses of the formation flooded the tissues, splashing up. The stink coming with it made the guards step back, some of them to vomit. It filled the warehouse so thickly the captain ordered them to flee.

They took deep breaths outside, and doctor Mangould adjourned the dissection for that day. He ordered the guards to take an intensive, sulphureous shower at his shop and their clothes to be burned – only it was too little too late.

It was too late when the guards touched the remnants.

At first they joked about the slight, slimy sensation on their skins. They attributed it to the fright. Only it didn’t disappear later on, rather spread on their arms, itched, reddened for the evening, and covered their bodies for the morning. The skin dried at patches, blackened, formed abscesses and fumed gases so foul it stunned them.

Blood oozed from their wounds, the pain like a thousand needle plagued them, and in the dead silence they could _hear_ that thing eating them slowly and mercilessly, _feel_ their own bodies rotting.

Doctor Mangould and the guards were the firsts. In a few hours they’ll be followed by their families, by their friends and neighbors. Dunwall will cry plague again, although this’ll be slower: a different kind of terror, sneaking on streets, leaving its spores in every handprint, spreading them with every cough.

It will need time to conquer the city: weeks, months – so little time for the Void –, but anyone it ever touches could never be freed from its iron grip again.

 

 

*

Corvo

 

 

He met one of his servants on the floor bringing dinner to the guests. They were instructed not to disturb anybody, only allowed to go in as far as the lobby of the rooms.

Still. He asked for the tray and sent the servant on his way.

The Outsider was sitting in one of the big armchairs at the open window with the remainder of the orange sunset and the angry clouds at his back, reading. The room fitted him with its deep brown wood, gold patterned drapery and old books. The crystal and glass decoration made the place look exciting, almost mysterious. His guest relocated some of the decor, put them to places where they scattered the light better, making the room look… cared for. Pretty.

“Do you like it?” the man looked up. ”They will all glitter in the morning, like a crystal cave in Pandyssia.”

“It fits you more, than it ever fitted me.”

“Still you lived here for years. It is quite the apathy not even caring about your closest surroundings.” He sounded earnest. “Did you give up upon yourself, my dear crow? Always finding somebody more important, being just an instrument in your daughter’s life, in the palace, passing through life like it’s not even there. Are you not somebody enough to have your own place?”

He had no answer for that. The Outsider was there for not even a whole day and he already asked questions he couldn’t answer. That he never would’ve wanted to be asked, ‘cause the answers fell somewhere between pathetic and depressing, hitting too close to home. Like always with his questions.

But at least he was talking again. There was only the two of them this time, and that made all the difference.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

“The book of lies” he held up the bulky _Religious heritage of the 1600’ that shaped the social structure of Dunwall_. Corvo has never read that book, didn’t even know he had it.

“It’s amusing how these clerics perceive the world” the Outsider continued. “Here: the Outsider caused the blackening of the crop, as nothing else could explain such a disaster demanding the life of hundreds. Or before they say: the Outsider poisonous words corrupted the mind of the Emperor planting the seed of grudge in his heart against the Abbey of the Everyman. They think I care about them, isn’t that piteous?”

He put down the book looking up, raising an eyebrow.

“You brought me food, the grand Lord Protector himself, the loose cannon man of the Empress. And you brought only one, like a servant. You know I am no longer divinity, I recall you as a smarter one.”

Corvo put down the tray. This Outsider was more familiar, insulting something constantly, but never really meanly. He felt livelier, wilder like the Void has been blurring not only his body but also his personality, and now he could act free and feel liberated.

Anybody else would’ve annoyed him, but the rants of the god amused Corvo.

“Maybe I didn’t want to cause havoc among the servants. They would die in place finding the black eyed demon in the closet.”

Though there were no more black eyes, just this grey-green: old, full with life, past and amusement. It changed his face too; the whole man, even his speech, the same and so different. Enthralling, potentially additive.

The Outsider laughed.

“It surprised you.”

“Wouldn’t it everyone?”

“True, my dear” he smiled standing up. “Eat with me, Corvo!”

“There is only one.” He could’ve ordered more, but haven't occurred to him.

“It's plenty enough. I don’t eat much, food and eating itself feels still… strange, I think. Alien. Nevertheless, I’m sure your chef is excellent, you always appreciated a fine meal.”

He knew these little things about him, and that made him feel special even if he knew it didn’t necessarily meant anything.

They sat down to eat, with only one set of cutlery, but he hasn’t felt like bothering about that. One can eat meat and vegetables very well with fingers – he ate only like that before he was sent to the palace anyway.

 But the god wasn’t really eating, taking only small bites, getting familiar with the flavors, running his fingers along the blade of a knife on the tray, watching the shiny metal.

“Are you afraid of knives?”

“I’m not afraid of anything. In my age, after what happened…” he shrugged. “But it makes me wonder…”

A pause.

“About?”

No answer. He got impatient, or more like scared of not getting a response again. That’s what the Outsider had been doing: giving a speech, then disappearing. Sometimes they really had only a little time, but on many occasions it was Corvo who didn’t ask the questions that he should’ve even when the time was right. So it was his fault too, but the god didn’t make it easier knowing damn well how to avert his prying.

Only he came here now and Corvo wasn’t willing to play this game anymore.

“This won’t be a thing, me asking something and you not caring to react.”

“You act like I know the answers.”

“This wasn’t a difficult question.”

“Then maybe I just don’t want to hear your answer... about whether they had a reason good enough.”

The ones who killed him.

He wanted to slap the table and say no, but it wasn’t a comfortable answer, nor was yes actually. Nobody really knew on the whole world why he got sacrificed – or what will it mean him getting freed.

It was a disturbing thought, making him realize how hard and unsettling this whole situation must’ve been for the man. He couldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about it.

“You didn’t said a word the afternoon. Why? Are you playing mysterious again, afraid of being normal for once?”

He smiled. “Normal, you say? There is no normal, only ordinary. You are not normal either, nor are you ordinary in that matter. But in fact... I may have not known what to say, or how you would react.”

After Jessamine, Daud, Delilah, the witches and whalers trying to kill him. Most of his pain came from the Outsider’s chosen, from people abusing a power they should’ve never had. But he was a chosen too.

It should’ve been different.

“Why did you ask Meagan?”

Why not me? – The question weighing him down all day.

“You think so much of me, my dear, but… I didn’t know I can be saved. I knew what Daud was plotting; I knew what Meagan swore for. I didn’t know where my grave was, but I knew I couldn’t stop her if she gets there.”

And he didn’t stopped her on her way, rather talked to her sometimes, hinted clues, and gave her powers to be able to do what she promised. That was the most unsettling in all this and angered Corvo at the core.

“I never saw that place before I woke up, never asked Meagan to keep me alive. It was interesting whether I can be killed or not, but this… I knew nothing about this.”

He watched the man sitting on the chair; elbow on the table, watching the falling night, the wakening lights of the city from the window. Contemplating, eyes hard and stormy, dinner forgotten.

“If you had known, would you have come to me?” Corvo asked.

“Would you have wanted to find me?”

“Yes.”

His smile turned almost gentle. “You really are something else, right? My little crow... you were so broken when I first found you, running from Coldridge. You were strong, stronger than anyone I saw for a long time; interesting. I assumed you to be merciless to that strength, and you proved me wrong preserving the lives of your opponents; fascinating.”

The Outsider stood up, chair squeaking on the wooden floor. He was walking around again picking up a palm-sized glass figure, playing with it. Even his movements made him feel more real.

“A man this pure…” he continued.” I gave you the power that corrupted so many: remarkable people like Vera Moray, Daud, Delilah, and others before them. They didn’t get the mark to be tempted, only to make watching this pile of dirt of a world more interesting. To watch them rewrite history, to feel the lines of the future tangle, because everything outside of them was so cruelly predictable… They all made great work in that, and got corrupted without exception.”

He put the figure down to its original spot, now touching the old wood of the furniture, shoving the ball of a pendulum gently, making the machinery click a few times.

“Vera sought fortune wading through everyone exhaling kisses of poison. Daud sought strength massacring whole quarters of the city, and Delilah… you know Delilah: separating her soul, seeking a power second greatest to mine and revenge.

“Some of them blamed me for the things they did” he pondered watching the pendulum. “They said I should’ve known. And I did know, Corvo, it was in their future: a way among many they could’ve chosen. I don’t feel remorse and I don’t pity them.”

Disdain in the words, in the twitch of the mouth. He turned away.

“They always did what they wanted, became the force of nature, the operators of the machinery of the world. Tyrants on their scale… They entertained me.” He said but with a sad, bitter smile.

He was then standing next to the king sized bed, watching the embroidered pillows and bedspread. He jumped down to the bed with his back down, the frame creaking from the impact, the soft, flexible mattress bouncing him back and he smiled.

For a moment he seemed like a child, reminding him of a younger Emily. Eyes closed he seemed so much younger with the dark locks, the smooth skin, handsome features and that always up to no good smile. Slender body hidden under the dark clothes – different than in the Void – so mesmerizing and every small move betraying so much power, like a typhoon at the edge of breaking out.

He was dangerous even if Corvo couldn’t exactly tell why he felt that. Maybe because he saw him in the Void, knew who he was, but couldn’t fathom the reality him being flesh and bone before him, not being able to wrap the world around his fingers.

“This feels nice.” the Outsider said caressing the gilded satin bedspread, embraced by the thick blankets. “I don’t remember touching things like this ever.”

“Scholars say you were a street kid.”

“They’re probably not wrong and definitely know more about me at this point than I.”

He was looking at the ceiling, lost in thought. Those eyes – now green – made him look so much older, ancient almost. Corvo stood up, moved closer.

“You don’t remember?”

“I do remember, Corvo, everything. Well, everything that this human mind can fathom, it’s… exhausting. Confusing sometimes, like I remember things that never happened, reach for things that aren’t there. I saw too many futures, too many scenarios, and live now only one. But I do remember, up to my death at least… and nothing before that. It’s gone like –” he snapped his fingers. ”Like there is no beyond, only I know I have been somebody before. A street urchin maybe, but _somebody…_ It wouldn’t change a thing and still I…”

He fell silent. Corvo was standing above him now, watching the lithe body sprawled on the sheets, the eyes and the look finding his again. An almost smile.

Somebody must’ve known something.

“You feel so different every time I see you –” the Outsider said reaching toward him. Corvo grabbed his hand, helped him to sit up, but the man didn’t release him noticing the leftover mark on his hand.

Reaching with that hand wasn’t intentional nor a coincidence; instinct maybe, the need to show to whom he belonged, where he stood after all that happened. The Outsider was holding his hand gently tracing the black lines with a finger, pulling him closer, so near he could feel his breath on his hand.

“– and I’m amazed every time how little you actually change. My dear Corvo. My anchor through the ocean of time. You were different from the start, never losing control, never letting power go to your head, never rising above the others, nor making them pawns, or making them bow and worship. Always you were so sober about the world around you. Fascinating. Intoxicating. I threw ordeals at you at every step, but you never cracked, staying true beyond strength.”

“Yet Daud and Delilah could keep their powers.” And he was the one who couldn’t, feeling the connection fading the second he was done, leaving a mark as an empty drawing on his hand that he had to hide. Though it was never the powers he missed.

“Maybe it was too painful to watch you.” A silent reply.

He itched to touch the god – the man – before him. His finger twitched fighting his better judgment to feel just for a second; but who dared to touch a god? He didn’t before; the creature hovering before him in his dreams, at the altars, seeming like smoke even in the abandoned buildings in the real world.

You can’t catch smoke and can’t touch a god, that’s how things work. Only now it should’ve been different: a man looking the same, but now out of matter, with weight, with presence. In realness.

“You want to make sure?” the Outsider asked looking up, still holding his hand. “You can.”

And he did. He touched his shoulder carefully, the shirt – not made from the finest material, although it should’ve been – the line of the collarbone, the acromion: a slim body, a pulse, the peak of a long scar from under the collar. Light touches on a real body.

He wasn't brave enough to touch skin.

The eyes of the Outsider never left him.

“I never intended to mark you for the second time, did you know that?” he mused. “But then Delilah decided to kill you, and I intervened.”

“Emily saved me.”

He laughed. “Yeah, she wishes.” He shook his head. “You would be both dead. And Delilah was so royally pissed – that bitch.”

He never heard talking him like this before; raised his brow.

“She was your marked.”

“And I don’t have to like her to find her interesting... She angered me with tampering into my death place. She touched a power not meant for the kind of her, for the ones driven by great dreams without the lesson of handling them. Delilah wasn’t somebody learning from mistakes quickly enough. I find killing too easy, too… But in her case, for your sake, there wasn’t another way: too great of a power combined with an unstable mind in that woman. She let anger and revenge drive her to the point of insanity. But you stopped her.”

Corvo’s hand still on the man's shoulder, thumb drawing circles, feeling, but the Outsider was looking out of the window now, watching nothing in particular, and thinking.

“I always thought anger and hatred on their own were poor excuses, only it seems like I underappreciated both. It was Daud’s hatred that saved me. The man who fantasized about killing a god… The man, whose detest consumed his soul, not leaving place for anything else. A blind man, not less determined since he had nothing else to live for, blaming me for a city he almost ruined, for the lives he took… Pure anger. Pure hate. But that deep hatred freed me in the end.”

“And Meagan’s mercy.”

A long pause. “And Meagan’s mercy.” he repeated in agreement. “Makes me wonder what you would’ve chosen.”

“Have I ever given you a reason for that?”

“There are always reasons if you wish them to be. You may not have more ground to hate me, than the Abbey, Daud, or Meagan, but you don’t have less either. And last time we spoke you seemed… strained.”

He was: his daughter was turned into stone, his hometown was suffering from corruption and bloodbugs; the crown killer, Sokolov, the clockwork mansion, Delilah, everything… Laced with the reappearance of the god, his past, that damn altar, the despair of the situation. The awareness of the fact that he couldn’t trust the Outsider, couldn’t rely on him, couldn’t get used to this again, ‘cause in the moment the torments are over, the god will disappear again without a trace.

Once he could deal with it. Twice...

“Maybe it was too painful for me too.”

He got no answer to that. The Outsider got up, letting him go, passing next to him to the other side of the room. Corvo turned after him.

“Will you stay? That’s why you came?”

“I don’t intend to, the world is big out there.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Just as Dunwall then. I saw the foundation of the city, the born of an Empire, I know every street, every stone, the catacombs even you know nothing about, and I saw its death many times in many scenarios. Dunwall is just stone and metal, like everything else, the scenery of the riches and poor who think themself important. Some of them are. What more could you show me?”

Nothing. There was nothing in Dunwall now, just corpses waiting to be buried and remnants of mutiny. An angry, vengeful Abbey, witches running for their lives, molted corpses in the harbor – and he didn’t want to show him that.

“However...” The Outsider was watching him as he looked up. “I’m not in a hurry.”

 

 

*

Adeline

 

 

A week passed since she lost her powers, and Adeline was devastated. She felt her loss, like another person sitting next to her, constricting her chest. A part of her soul was gone. Nothing mattered anymore: the prison, those goddamned Overseers, Delilah, her life…

She sat all day in the corner, not talking or eating, but she was there nevertheless and although she wasn’t interested in what the guards or the others were talking about, she heard a lot.

Some guards were whispering about strange dark clouds in the distance passing by her cell, making it sound like an uneasy joke passed as a sailor’s fairytale. Others came with hounds complaining about a forgotten stinking dead whale in one of the harbor’s warehouses, or about guards sucking up to the palace, to the Lord Protector of all things for power and favors.

The Abbey was jealous, angry and hostile to anyone at this point. She found sick joy in their misery.

Yet the strangest thing was the men in chains escorted to the prison that day. The nervousness of the guards and the alarming silence of the captives made her to look up. The men passed in front of her cage. She never saw anyone quite like these before: with those haunted eyes, too wide, somehow cruelish, barbaric smiles, twitching fingers. Maniacs. They looked tattered, wore similar – once probably elegant –, but still somehow uniform-like clothes.

She was sure they weren’t from Dunwall – or from Karnaca for that matter–, but couldn’t tell whether they were witches or not.

One of the men looked back and they eyes met before they turned at the corner. ––-

The men were gone but wasn’t the uneasiness of the prisoners – and of the guards. Everyone became impatient, the guards unreasonably brutal again, beating somebody almost to death. But the captives were also noisy, angry… on edge. They all were terrified – she realized.

Of those men.

Like they were sheep and now predators sneaked inside the pen.

The promise of a _happening_ was in the air, but nothing changed ‘till that evening. ‘Till the smoke.

At first it was so faint of a smell, she wasn’t sure it was there at all even as other prisoners started yelling. But in seconds it filled the underground hallways.

She was standing in her cage yanking the irons with her one hand, yelling. Guards were running towards the upper levels weapons drawn, not sparing a glance at them. They heard the sounds of blades clashing from above, pistols firing, guards yelling, music boxes… the noises of a fight hard and desperate, the thud of bodies hitting the floor.

Meanwhile the smoke got thicker and thicker, making it hard to breathe and the witches panicked without their powers. Adeline coughed, pressed her rags in front of her face, desperately tried to open her cage somehow, but couldn’t.

The flames reached the rooms before theirs; the screams of the people burning alive filled their ears – then the sound of cages opening.

Captives fled from the prison, the flames in their heels, reaching at last into the room where Adeline and the others were. Roaring fire, burning wood, screams filled her ear, she hardly saw in the smoke coughing and drowning.

And from the flames advanced a man – one of the crazies from the afternoon, but now changed beyond recognition. His build became taller, more lithe, somehow different and alien with dark hair, pale skin, dark, haunted eyes reflecting the flames… She recognized the figure and almost fell to her knees.

Almost.

‘Cause then she caught a glimpse of its shadow in the dancing flames and smoke. A shadow not human from a mile: bigger, rougher, splintery and malformed like a disrupted corpse, like somebody faced an explosion that slurred its lines forever. A hollow eye now on the man and a wicked smile…

The cages opened, and that frightened her even more. They had her magic. The man was nearing with the flames and she run for the exit. She saw another one of those things on her way out, another on the roof outside, another gathering the rescued prisoners. But there was no way she would let them catch her – those things looking familiar only from the outside.

The one gathering the people moved towards her, calling her, but she run as she could to the other direction, through the smoke and spreading flames into the darkness and coldness of the Dunwall slums.

She fled the farthest she could, the fastest, until she collapsed. Then she hid in a hole under a bridge overflowing with garbage and stayed there awake and crying in shock the whole night.

 

 

*

The Outsider

 

 

The Outsider turned out to be a bad sleeper, due to nightmares mainly, but still. Sleeping felt like slipping back to the Void, being immobile again while his consciousness floats too far from the body, among the Void’s memories, stolen places, wandering monsters, sad whales; in silence and total stillness. In the Void even screams had no sound. There was no pain, ‘cause there was nothing, just the world out there to watch, the same patterns over and over again. Even he weren’t there, just the smoke, and the Void, that ancient thing watching, whispering, and showing him things he didn’t want to see.

It woke him every time, gripping the mattress or something, just to make sure it was over.

He had to get up that night too, being unable to endure stillness. Spacious room, comfortable bed, soft blankets, still. It was unusual, alien, a bit chilly or just the leftover feeling of the Void, of being dead.

There was nothing in the Void, not even heat.

He touched his head to clear it. The moon shined outside, but there were dark clouds gathering.

He left the room, rather wandering the hallways than reading nonsense again. There was no danger of meeting someone; the last six month halved the population of the palace. Still he chose the darker passages every time, going further and higher, till he ended up at the closed down section.

Delilah’s former residence. Ironic.

He went in.

Memories were troublesome things, if one lived long enough, saw all the timelines, and couldn’t forget. Wherever he looked he saw every possibility at once. In the Void it wasn’t bothersome, being able to easily distinguish between real and possible. However now…

It was like all the realities were in different colors before, and now he turned colorblind. The present, the future, the possibilities all black and white on each other, many layers of life blended together; only one being real.

There was a future where Delilah won, there was one, where Corvo and Emily changed side, one where Jessamine never died, married Corvo or didn’t. There was many without Corvo, or without one or all of them. There was not one without him, still, that didn’t mean anything on itself.

Seeing the world for the first time like this when he woke was a shock, but he got better at handling it. He almost always knew what was real and what wasn’t at these days.

Mostly.

But sometimes it was just too easy watching the passing time in whole. Watching all the things and people who could’ve been here at this time, listening to all what they could’ve said. The past was secure, sure, a calm see, the future was a hurricane forcing its way slowly. And he was standing always at the middle.

He felt it even now, though not so prominently. His vision and mind calmed slowly from day to day, learning.

He was alone in the dark hall that night, watching the steps of Delilah and her men, Corvo, the dusty floor and webbed corners. Months passed. This room will be closed down for a long time in this present.

Only his footsteps followed him with the groans and creaks of the old building. The wind was blowing outside. He ran his finger on the dark walls, tables, furniture left behind in that cold place. It wasn’t entirely dark; the lights of the city and the moon were shining in dimly.

The memories of the Void haunted him, but he showed them away, emptying his mind, feeling, watching… He felt it for a few days now, that _something_ , like a knot in his stomach, an urge, a craving, dizziness almost.

He was tracing Delilah footsteps absentmindedly, when he found the altar. A big one: purple candles, silver and glass vessels, whale bone, dark driftwood from the ocean, its purple veils like wings, or a crown reaching back and up on the wall.

Delilah only worshiped him for the sake of her followers.

He wasn’t prepared for the cold anger he felt upon seeing it, for the protest of his body against going near it.

So he just stood there and watched that thing: strong willed, cold hearted, determined.

Bluish-purple light dawned.

The altar burned to dust with a purplish flare.

The man, shocked and confused, watched the dust and his hands, feeling his heart beating, his blood flowing – a flash of euphoria.

And pair of eyes – that nobody saw – turned back to pitch black for seconds.

 

Meanwhile in the distance a fire alarm started crying.

 

 


	2. Dust on the pavement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This and the third one was intended to be one chapter, but it got a bit longer than I deemed healthy for one chapter. So ta-daaam two chapters. Just for you.

 

Uriah

 

Uriah Betteridge lived all his life in Dunwall as a son of fisherman who wanted more from life. He studied at the academy to become a diplomat, but fell out a year before completing it to help Delilah conquer the city. In his early years he has only known the most basic things about the Void using its name as a swear word like everybody around him.

It happened during the academy years he met the real thing, the real magic. It started with a girl – like so many stories in his life – and ended him drawing runes before an altar, learning the fine art of giving oblations: songs and runes for the small things, blood for the real ones.

He gained his powers and become a witch at the age of twenty three.

Many could learn magic if they were brave and persistent enough – not the kind Delilah had, but something at least – still he was proud of himself. He had it all now: moving small things, reading thoughts, throwing curses. He had worked very hard for it.

It was never the sentiment pushing him forward though, not the sacrament of the Void, not the god above them, the Outsider, just the promise of plain power. He believed in both of the formers now with all his heart, but wouldn’t have chosen this path just for them.

But being a witch… Why would one be anything else if could be a witch? Why would one not choose power and might if could? Who would disagree?

The Abbey.

Of course the Abbey disagreed, but only because they had power of their own – Uriah was sure.

Later in the rebellion he was among the many who helped the preparations and grabbed their weapons the moment Delilah stepped inside the palace. The Great Woman was a hero, a torch burning in darkness, fighting for them, destroying the Abbey that sat on their life like it owned it. He fought beside her without question or remorse: for the witches, for a new world, for personal gains and his powers.

He’s been killing Overseers and loyal city guards on the streets that day. Delilah’s power boosted them and they marched on like a flood, he at the front, leading his own small army with swords, pistols, ropes and fire.

They hanged, burned, impaled people on fences to show the world, the rest of the city, to Kaldwin’s people who were the bosses from that on. Screams filled the city and the smell of burning flesh, the drying blood covering them pulled their skins but only left him with the feeling of victory. And even after that, in the next three months he was responsible for whole districts in Dunwall – like a real guard captain – he hunted the Overseers like they hunted them before, and left them in plain sight for the Void and the Outsider to see and appreciate.

They did, else he wouldn’t have been sitting in this abandoned building on the floor, mending his wounds with the other prisoners – the Outsider himself before him. He recognized the man from the paintings even without the face. Dark and powerful: he really looked like a god, even more up to this close.

The god was sitting in the best chair available, watching them on the floor, waiting for them to be ready. Nobody dared to look up at him only Uriah. He was the leader, the one helping the others to flee after the Outsider opened the cages. He had the right to look, and he did it gladly.

“My Lord” he kneed before the chair. His legs and wounds hurt, his skin got burned in patches, his hair and eyebrow scorched, and still smelled like smoke. The past few days in prison haven’t helped either, although he got caught pretty late.

This was still the opportunity of a lifetime: meeting a god, serving one… He haven’t met the men escorted to the prison, didn’t see their saviors in the same room together and never got a glimpse at their shadows. For him this was the greatest honor and the shortest way to rise again.

Only the Outsider seemed unimpressed.

“My followers are expected to be able to avoid getting caught by these fuckers. What kind of lowlifes are you?”

“Forgive us, my Lord, we’ve lost our powers.” That was why he got caught too.

“And?” The god raised a brow. He looked cold and merciless. “But this is the only reason I came for you. I have no need for weaklings! You understand?” He waited till the room agreed, only then he leaned back and let them relax.

“You want your powers back?” the Outsider asked.

“Yes, my Lord.” Uriah answered.

“Good. It was a man who stole it, my lookalike. He is in this city somewhere and I need him alive.”

 

#  *****

 

Corvo

 

Corvo had a long night tossing and turning in bed in a smaller, more modest bedroom. He watched the ceiling or looked out of the window sitting, thinking. He would’ve liked to think it was the city’s problems keeping him awake, but that wasn’t true at all.

Even as he fell asleep for a few moments he dreamed about tension, worry, something disturbing about the past and the Void, a man walking in the palace further than he would’ve liked. He was at an altar again, wishing he wasn’t alone, hoping the weepers won’t find him. The presence of the Outsider distracted him from his tasks, but aside from a small remorse, he didn’t mind it all that much. Maybe he really had enough, got fed up with this life after the second dethronement. Who could blame him?

Only, the Empress needed him, and she needed his head clear in the game.

He heard about what happened to doctor Mangould and the guards at the morning briefing. His subordinates presented the incidence like the beginning of another plague. That couldn’t be right, though. Only fourteen years after the former… and that outbreak was intentional; an epidemic never seen before by this part of the world, that left its mark on every soul, even on those who were born after that.

Crying plague was irresponsible considering the state Dunwall was in after Delilah. The city guard quarantined the harbor and the few affected areas where the guards lived, then burned down the warehouse save a few samples for the scholars to study.

Any sickness could be on the bodies adrift on the ocean for who knew how long. It hasn’t had to be a new plague; it could've even been a coincidence; only the state of bodies suggested something deeper and darker.

His concern only grew as he heard about the Abbey prison that got burned down the night. It wasn’t Coldrige, but a place especially for witches, now overflowing with prisoners, who had escaped according to statements.

Maybe the witches really had to do something with the sinister things happening. If it was some leftover plan of the revolt that could affect the Empress he needed to stay on his toes and keep his eyes and ears open. Not like he wouldn’t have to otherwise.

He left a note for the Outsider before he went to check out what happened: to the Abbey first.

The Abbey of the Everyman couldn’t openly hate the Lord Protector after restoring the Empire and the heir to the throne, but did everything possible to make him feel despised. Although he never got caught or killed somebody decent – not talking about the fate his targets got – the Abbey of the Everyman wasn’t stupid. He had to talk about in details what he did and how he did it to clear his own name and somehow explain how he managed to find Emily.

It was needed to talk about Daud and the whalers to explain Jessamine’s death even if he knew the Abbey keeps track of them as the most powerful witches in the area. They knew about Daud’s pact with the Outsider. He never talked about his of course, but again the Abbey wasn’t stupid, they knew he couldn’t have done it on his own. The only reason he didn’t got branded and executed was their lack of evidence. That wouldn’t have mattered in any other situation, but he was a hero back then.

Emily took his side and the Outsider’s and that made the Abbey investigate her too threatening with banishment, so he shut her up and tried to keep her as far from this mess as he could.

The scrutiny of the Abbey haven’t left him though and he had to live his life under their judgment all the time, being careful with every act, every word. Even more so after Delilah and the massacre. Then they got sure he was a witch and now was still alive only because he helped the Abbey and Emily didn’t let him taken away.

The threat on his life may not have been evident all the time but he knew he is two bad step away from the gallows. And most of the Abbey wasn’t talking to him. Obadiah Pipe-Wolferstan was a refreshing exception and he was relieved as he saw him at the black remnants of the prison examining the place.

The Overseer greeted him as he got closer; the others looked up, glared but haven’t said anything before their superior.

“Lord Protector, I intended to talk to you. A bit further if you may” he said leading him away from the black walls, ash and the smell of burned flesh.

“What happened?”

Obadiah seemed sad and stressed, now without his mask, keeping it in his hand picking the deep cut on the steel he got as he was fighting for his family at the revolt.

He shrugged. “We’ll never know for sure, everybody who could’ve seen how it started is under a sheet now or in a jar of ash. The prison is burned down, the witches escaped, my coworkers are dead.” he said it matter of fact-ly, but from his face it was clear he was shaken.

Didn’t blame him though, nor the witches; Obadiah was patient and understanding against all odds, common sense and better judgment even after Delilah’s revolt and him appearing to question them.

“But I managed to talk some of them before their death and they swore it was the Outsider coming for the witches at last.”

That felt like a bucket of cold water. The god, now  _ human, _ was in the palace still sleeping he hoped.

“You don’t happen to know anything about this, do you?”

“Why would I?”

“Please, Lord Attano…” Obadiah shook his head disapprovingly “I’m not judging, but if anybody knows something about that thing it’s you.”

He wouldn’t tell them the Outsider is in the city for the life of his. “I’m not keeping track of the Outsider nor does he tell me about his plans, but this, what happened here is not how he would go about his business.”

“Yeah” the Overseer sighted. “And I would’ve called it hoax every other day too. The attention of the guards slipped and the witches run for their life burning the place. Hate bears hate like it did always, this prison was a memento for that; not like the others agree with me… But you know, magic seemingly left the world not long after Delilah and it makes me wonder if there really is something we just don’t know about.”

 

#  *****

 

Corvo

 

He saw a man at the closed down harbor, on the edge of the quarry watching the dark water. The ships were diverted to the other two harbors and now at theirs everything seemed peaceful and abandoned. Smaller fisher boats swayed on the calm, billowy water, clouds run above them, the forenoon sun shining through sometimes, seagulls squawked preying around the fisher nets. No human in their vicinity, just the two of them.

Corvo halted upon recognizing the figure. The salty ocean breeze fluttered their clothes.

All this scenery seemed like a painting or a postcard: Come, visit Dunwall, the small, romantic capital of Gristol, where we don’t have revolts, murders, epidemics and general misery, but have an atmospheric old town, exciting cultural life and an ocean shore to spend a long walk with the one you…

He really shouldn’t have thought thinks like this.

The Outsider stood with his back to him, arms folded. He wore the clothes Corvo gave him with a hat to be harder to recognize. He looked like a wondrous, moderately rich young man and still he seemed different like anybody who he ever saw. There was something in his build, in those broad shoulders, long legs and tone of skin that made him stood out: the proportions of his body maybe, his aura, the man in whole. Anybody easily could tell he wasn’t from around, not even from their time…

“You shouldn’t have come out here.” He went closer. “The Abbey has it out for you. They’re convinced you set their prison on fire.”

The Outsider arched a brow turning back. “I didn’t.”

“Yes, I’ve hoped that much. Still they’re looking for you again. What happens if somebody sees you?”

“Nothing. The people here wouldn't be brave enough to recognize me. They would maybe alert the Abbey later, but then and there where they would see me they would stare and then go on. They believe in me, believe the Abbey that I’m a demon, but would never believe I’m among them like this.”

“At first maybe, until the Abbey doesn’t propagate you’re actually here; in flesh of all things.”

“The Abbey can try.”

“I would rather they didn’t.”

“You worry about me, my dear?” the Outsider smiled. “Or worry about you and Emily?”

“Can’t I both?”

“You can. It’s flattering.”

They were watching the water, the waves hitting the shore. Corvo was looking for more bodies or anything that could explain what happened. The guards have found nothing since yesterday and the soldiers he sent out also had found only debris from the city’s ships. That confirmed what they thought about the bodies belonging to their sailor, but nothing else.

He wanted to see the place with his own eyes just as the prison. They were at loss about what happened and as frustrating as that was, they found the shore empty. Not like he wished to find other bodies, or a new sickness. Those black clouds at the horizon though… Aside from the thunderclouds forming above them, there were giant black clouds marching at the horizon menacingly, following a path almost against the wind. Like it was alive, watching, searching... He told himself they were just mere clouds, a downpour nothing else and still it creeped him out. They were too big of a coincidence.

When he glanced over the Outsider was watching him.

“So what do you think?” He cleared his throat turning his attention from the darkness. “You came to help didn’t you? Interested in the pictures.”

“Help is a strong word, but I do find what happened… familiar. I have no memories about it, so it must have happened before the sacrifice.” He flinched. “But you’re right, it has something to do with that storm… I think.”

“You read mind?”

“Face. You are not  _ that _ difficult, my dear. Besides… I don’t like that thing either.”

“Is there something out there we have to fear?” he pointed toward the clouds and the ocean with his chin.

“Depends on how you like mutilated bodies. Though it still could’ve been a man with a sick mind. You would be surprised… well, maybe  _ you _ wouldn’t.” He said watching the black clouds frowning. “I’m pretty sure it’s something you don’t want near you, but what could you do? What could I? Imprison clouds? You sent men to investigate, your eyes and ears are out there and you gather information from wherever you can. Is it your job to investigate every emerging body, every sick man? Isn’t your place here? Or do you have to be the one on every ship, in every country doing and investigating everything yourself, ‘cause nobody can do it well enough?”

“Of course not.”

“Right, you see you are just a bodyguard with a fancy title; real fancy, but only a shield for a ruler. Not even a very good one mind you.” He smiled. “And still you feel miserable.” The god started walking again on the empty docks. “You can’t be everywhere, keep watch over everything even if you are a chosen. Some things just happen driven by greater forces than any of us can master. And I say this as a former god.”

“So what? I should just leave it? Let whatever doomed thing is happening just happen?”

“I’ve been doing that for thousands of years.”

“And gave us power to change things.”

“Maybe.”

Corvo throw a glance at him. “You sound sad.”

“Am I? Perhaps. Had a lot of thinking to do in the past weeks.”

The Outsider didn’t seem like talking about that though, keeping silent and turning his gaze back to the water, like he was seeing and hearing things he couldn’t.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Corvo said.

For that the Outsider watched him again for a long time.

“Yes” he sighted. ”Haven’t we all? For all this, being human, I feel… I haven’t felt anything for a long time. I did things, thought things, but never  _ felt  _ things. And now I am here: I feel small, like there is too much of me in too small of a place. Everything buzzes, the past clashes with the future, the memories of the Void are weighing me and sometimes I’m not even sure whether I am here at all. Like I’m in many storms at once that try to tear me apart, not sure what’ll be left of me after.”

The god sat down on a stone wall, watching the clouds and the ocean, hands strictly folded.

“I look around me, look at those clouds, to the bodies or just take a breath and I have a bad feeling, like I’m missing something terrible. The bodies the other day… Like it's on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t find the words. I can’t see in this storm and I am sorry I can’t help you now even if I want to.”

Corvo stepped closer, touching the Outsider’s shoulder gently.

“I understand and wasn’t complaining.” But he didn’t know how to help either and that did trouble him. “Do you regret becoming human?”

“No.” The sun shined through the clouds and the god turned his face toward it, hands now on the mural, feeling the cool stones and the roughness. “Whatever I could face here, the Void is worse: that cold, stillness, cruelty… to watch how it plays with the souls till they disappear. There is nothing to feel there: no smells, no tastes, no touches. I grabbed your hand and I couldn’t feel any of it. But now – “the Outsider touched his arm, fingers running on the coat, on the skin, holding his fingers in the end. “It’s overwhelming, but grounds me. Touching makes me feel real, shows me what's real.”

Corvo tightened his grip on the god’s hand and the emotions tightened his throat. He wanted to say so many things, like _ : I am here, I want you here, I want you to feel me, to be real, happy _ . The things he could never tell Jessamine, because their positions, but the Outsider wasn’t a god anymore, he was human, he was there, in pain and he just wanted to pull him closer, embrace him, but couldn't, because he was Lord Protector on the streets of Dunwall.

The question slipped still.

“Did you come to me? That’s why you came to Dunwall, right? To see me.”

“I was interested.”

“In?”

“In whether you are the same man from this side of the Veil. The one I liked so much in the Void.”

“Am I?”

He hummed. “Or am I…?”

 

#  *****

 

Adeline

 

Adeline was searching for food in the dumpsters around the canals looking around constantly for danger. She couldn’t be seen, her missing hand and nose was one thing, but the heretics mark burned onto her face made her free to kill for anybody. She tried not to fret too much about that distracting herself with trying to stay sane and alive.

She was free, a ghost now, dead technically still walking. She tried not to think about her family, the childhood at the lower parts of Karnaca, the embrace of her mother, the encouraging feeling of her magic, her believes in life. All lost now except the determination driving her, not letting her sit in a corner and die like it drove her through the months in prison without a plea.

But there was only the smelly canal for her now without hope, and the rotten, moldy food she found disgusted her so much the despair overcame her: made her let the food fall from her hand back into the water and her to sit down at last tears running on her face.

What now?

She prayed to the Outsider hoping for the god to hear her even without an altar. The one true god, the savior, the master of her life… She begged for forgiveness. She believed the prayers to be echoed in the Void, that her devotion will stay as a memento there forever whatever’s gonna happen to her. This calmed her enough to think more clearly about what happened the night.

Those things were false gods, heretics taking up a form of the deity… But how, why, why did those things have magic and she didn’t. Delilah would know, that women knew so much about these things… And maybe she really knew – she realised.

Delilah wrote books and taught about the Void at length. Never about these things she’s seen, but they could be still in the books somewhere despite that. Or something at least, any explanation.

Her master brought all her teachings with her coming to Dunwall and hided it somewhere in a safehouse ‘till she conquered the palace. It was written in a letter to the Coven that got read out then burned: something about a rich house with a view to the gardens somewhere higher in the city… If it hasn’t been found already.

She looked up to the Dunwall mountain and the city towering above her: one house among the millions, maybe the only hope for her and the others.

She left the canals and started looking.

 

#  *****

 

Corvo

 

Corvo sat at the table in the brewery nursing a beer, Slackjaw before him. The gangster looked older, even more than he should have being only five years older than him. They kept in touch after he accidentally saved his gang from Vera and later Slackjaw himself from being eaten during the plague. They weren't exactly friends but it was nice getting a drink together once in a while. They were each other’s informant in many things, and one of Corvo’s most important related to the witches. He himself couldn’t talk to the “Demon’s people” being constantly under the Abbey’s gaze and although there were no witches in Slackjaw’s gang – officially –, that man seemed to know about everything.

The boss was his kind of a man: opportunist with a conscience; a heart if he wanted to use big words. He got to know him better during the years and despite their past he was one of the few he really trusted.

He had the feeling the Outsider would like him too, would find him funny maybe. Slackjaw belonged to one of the smaller sects professing the belief that the Outsider was never really human, but the face of the Void that existed from the beginning of time and was shaped human by the Void trying to communicate with the world.

He wished to see the Outsider face when somebody explained this to him... only he probably knew it already being the know-it-all queen he was.

Slackjaw wasn’t a witch and not really belonged to any congregation, still he had interesting and thought provoking notions considering magic and the religion. They talked about these things at length, about what would happen without the Abbey or if just once the Outsider spoke openly.

“Think ‘bout it!” Slackjaw leaned closer over the table. “So many people in this world craving for a god, building altars and giving oblations despite the Abbey’s punishment, searching for the meaning of life. They believe, I believe” he corrected himself “, the Void to be the higher power, the answer. I believe that the god would know better, would teach us how to live a better life. The faithfuls are here, waitin’ for our leader, the Outsider to come for us. Think ‘bout a world we could build, think ‘bout a life sheltered by a god, not oppressed by the Abbey!”

“The Outsider wouldn’t lead us.”

“‘Cause we aren’t ready. The Void haven’t deemed us worthy for the Outsider. Yet. But there’ll be a time the world’s gonna be ready, a time when the god’s gonna show himself to everybody. Imagine a life where our gods are walking among us! That’s gonna be the golden age. Most of the congregations are waiting for just one real word.”

This happened a few years before and Corvo never thought much about this till then, but now Slackjaw’s nervous look made him remember and the happenings of the last few days to reconsider. The god was among them now, as human, and Slackjaw probably would’ve had some thoughts about that too if he knew.

Maybe the gangboss  _ was  _ right, but thinking these things would’ve made the Outsider less human and that he wasn’t willing to consider.

Slackjaw made an excited expression though.

“It started, Protector.” he drank from his jar. “The witches… magic is gone, the oblations doesn’t work. It’s begun and the world is turning.”

“Tell me what you know!”

The gangboss lit a cigar. “It happened about two weeks ago: all the witches lost their power in an instant and nothing works since then. Many witches got caught because of it, the others gotta hide, even those who took no part in the rebellion whatsoever. Everybody’s afraid, nobody knows exactly why this happened, but many have ideas. They say the Outsider is gone and all the magic with him.”

Slackjaw exhaled the smoke, refilled the glasses. “ _ And  _ many saw the god in the city.”

Corvo shook his head. “There are Overseers and witches every once in the while who insist seeing the god.”

Sokolov was investigating these reports for years, while trying to invent a method to make the god show himself without success. It always amazed him that the Abbey let the professor work in peace – they probably considered the man too valuable to kill or brand.

“This is different. Rodney saw him too. The god rescued the caught witches and now is leading a bunch of them.”

Rodney was one of Slackjaws most trusted men, they worked together for ages: if that man reported something, it was real. And truly it wasn’t like Rodney couldn’t have seen the Outsider the god roaming in the city even before they met despite Corvo’s concerns – exactly because situations like this. But he couldn’t imagine the god attacking an Abbey prison, much less leading a ‘strike force’.

He liked to think he knew the god best of all people – except Delilah it seemed, but that woman was dead, not because of Corvo’s jealousy, but still – and he found the things the god allegedly did inconsonant with the man he knew he was, with how he talked at the harbor or at the previous night.

Only maybe he was the one being lied to. He dismissed these thoughts.

“No comment?” Slackjaw raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t believe it.”

The boss laughed. “Course you don’t. You are a man of order, gotta restore peace on the streets, on the throne twice, clinging to the past, tradition like your mother’s tits… You’re a diehard conservative with no affection to be anything else. But lemme tell you a thing:  _ nothing _ will be the same from now on. The rise of the witches changed everything, this genocide the Abbey is doing is the end of time  _ and  _ the god came for his nation.”

The smile on the boss’s face was almost maniac already planning how to benefit from the situation.

“And all the witches believe this?”

Slackjaw waved his hand. “There’s nothing on earth everybody believes. But most of them do; my men and the others I talked to definitely. There’s the group the Outsider leads, and the others are waiting for a sign to catch up.”

“Could they be responsible for the sickness?”

“That took care of the guards? Naw, don’t think so. I asked around after you send the message, but nothing. The city’s as clueless as you.  _ And  _ you’re a lucky bastard only a few know about it at all.”

Corvo sighted playing with his glass. “Will the witches try something?”

“Will their god try something?” Slackjaw asked back. “Maybe. Probably. If it is true of course, what I do think it is.”

The sudden piercing pain in his hand distracted him. It was the mark he knew instantly, the same pain he felt when he got it. It should have been mute with the god here. It should’ve been turned off forever. Something was amiss. Something with the Outsider.

And he ran to help not caring for anything else.

 

#  *****

 

Obadiah

 

Obadiah Pipe-Wolferstan was a middle-aged Overseer with two kids and a wife - a fellow Overseer. He had many years of experience behind him at the Abbey of the Everyman, many caught witches, and many hours spent teaching, citing the strictures.

‘The Outsider leads one away from the righteous ways. He causes harm, misery and pain.’ – he taught this to everyone, only he himself had questions.

“Why?” he asked his wife after a session one day.

“What why?”

“Why does the god hate us? Why wants he harm?”

“For revenge of course” the woman said shrugging.

“For what?”

At this his wife stopped, turned to him not understanding why he would ask things like this. “Because he was sacrificed? You know this just as well as I.”

“We didn’t do it.”

“You are so naive if you think it matters.”

“He never harmed us for killing the witches.”

“And he never helped them either. You see, he leads them away and then abandons them. We are saving people.”

He thought about the tortures in the cellar and shook his head. His wife continued impatiently, almost angrily.

“Look, love, don’t question these things! Asking the questions is the first step to a disrupted mind, to think like a  _ witch… _ Who is he, why is he out there, why he does what he does, why he finds joy in hurting us? We know this already: he is the source of magic, power, corruption, of all evil, the force we have to fight in life to be humans, free, really alive. Without question, pity or uncertainty. Please don’t forget this.”

The Outsider is a demon, the witches are the corruption of the world. The ultimate truth. Except it all felt shallow. Those unlucky in the cellars weren’t necessarily worse than the people finding sick joy in torturing them.

After what happened with Delilah and the rebellion of the witches he should’ve become more certain in the Abbey’s work, except he hasn’t. ‘Cause although he was running for his life, fighting for the city, killing to survive and hiding with his wife and kids, still the fear and pain in the eyes of his loved ones around him was the same he saw so many times in the eyes of the witches in the cages and cellars. Hundreds of years of persecution during which the number of witches only grew despite all else couldn’t be forgotten or tolerated forever.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t fully committed to the beliefs of the Abbey. He was certain power corrupted whatever it touched it, be that a witch or an Overseer with a white-hot iron rod, and magic was especially dangerous having no business to in in the hands of most humans.

It needed be restricted, controlled and mostly oppressed, but not like this, not without thought and blindly from hate. Because whatever disaster it caused sometimes, magic wasn’t the cause of all misery on earth and neither was the Outsider. Maybe the witches had power, but the god never went for it himself, never tried to rule. If he was really angry, they wouldn’t be alive – he had no illusions about that.

Every coin has two sides: like Corvo and Delilah, even if he did understood why the woman did, what she did.

And the disasters… that just how life worked. Humanity’s misery came mostly from humanity itself even if the Abbey glorified the human soul. He mused a lot about whether the Outsider had insight over all this...

He wasn’t ignorant like his coworkers and wanted to think, saw things and figure things out on his own. Maybe that made him a bad man. Stupid too. After years he still hasn’t figured out anything.

He thought about the prison, the witches, the rumor about the Outsider in the city and after the plague, the corruption of the leaders and the stubborn ignorance of the Abbey he found himself not minding the change all that much. With the necessary control of course.

He put on his mask, got his music box onto his chest and went for his rounds to the harbor.

 

#  *****

 

The Outsider

 

After Corvo went on his way, the Outsider stayed at the harbor still for a long time watching the water and the thunderclouds gathering above. A promise of a heavy storm hanged in the air, a great one even with Dunwall’s measures.

There was something in the ocean that felt like the Void, like a voice calling him, something out there, crying a name even he couldn’t recall. It felt familiar, just like the bodies on the pictures. Something important he lost and forgot felt like floating in the deepest ocean, out of reach – and care? Frustrating though. The depths of ocean was very much like the Void.

There was something brewing beneath the countless timelines overcasting his vision, something reaching further than his first memories. And what happened with the altar the other day…  and that  _ something  _ lurking and moving under his skin, waiting to come out. First he thought it's the feeling of having a body, but now he wasn’t so sure.

They didn’t know what it will mean him getting free and only one place had answers, but he needed some long hours of thinking to bestir himself to act.

He bought the knife at a black-market shop specialized for the occult with the money he got from Meagan. The shopkeeper kept a straight face even if she probably recognized him. Nobody would believe this woman even if she would tell somebody and that kind of amused him. This whole ado around him felt ridiculous, comical how the people argued about him and tried to appeal to him. He wasn’t interested in all this bullshit, nor in the life or the future of the people. Petty and stupid. He was free now, hadn’t had to even look at them anymore.

This was one of the reasons he didn’t really want to carry out the plan despite buying the knife. It wasn’t something he wanted, but was it something that needed to be done? He wasn’t sure. His life could’ve worked out without it, this buzzing would’ve ebbed away, he would’ve coped with the memories, he didn’t… But that disquieting feeling, something lurking in his footsteps…

Only Meagan was right maybe: he may felt strange due to the four thousand years of being dead.

He was heading back to the palace lost in thought, fighting with the memories and the visions. The streets were changing before his eyes for streets to streets, different with the alternate futures and he had to touch the walls to know what’s really there. He passed through the closed down harbor where there were no people now, only in his visions, but in those he saw masses.

He didn’t notice the real men following him in the shadows, only as one run after him and stabbed him in the shoulder. Surprise, hot pain, a cry, the strength of the attack knocked him down to the knees. Memories turned up suddenly with the anger and agony: an old pain from the past, an old horror: running, fighting, struggling against the rope, a knife, a breath on his neck, the pain of death. He was a kid, he never was anything other than a kid.

“I got him! For fuck sake I…”

The knife ripped his shoulder as he turned, knocking back the attacker with a punch to the stomach. Shouts; a man on the ground. He kneeled on the attacker’s neck, crushing it, smashed his head to the pavement as he fought back with a force he couldn’t be capable of. A crack and the body turned to black dust under him on the pavement.

He felt shock and euphoria – a breath of freedom with it.

For a split second he just stared at the familiar black dust. Once there were whole fields covered by it – ankle deep. He saw all of it and they said... Somebody grabbed his neck showing the blade out of his shoulder, shouts echoed. He moved to push away this too, but wind woke under his palm sweeping the man, crushing him to wall like a ragdoll, turning his body to dust.

Attacker again, but now he was quick enough, quicker than any human could be, grabbed the neck of the man standing up lifting him up, crushing to a wall with a crack.

“Don't shoot; he said alive!” a cry somewhere behind him, a bang. Time itself felt slower then, he turned still holding the man, watching the bullet fly, the remaining four man standing in a half circle with weapons drawn. It cost only a thought and the bullet changed path embedded into the skull of the giver.

The man turned to dust and time restored leaving the Outsider dizzy.

“Back off!” he shouted keeping the man firmly, looking behind his back.

The three attackers backed away a few steps. He was panting, his muscles shaking, head buzzing, dizzy. Countless memories were chasing each other in his head; old things, pictures about black dust covered fields, death, arguing, fighting, the bitter taste of panic, the crashing feeling of loss, and countless futures that never happened. An inner cry was tearing him apart.

“Who are you?!” He could hardly see them, getting choked by the visions.

“The ones who’ll make this right” one stepped forward playing brave but shaking. “You cheated our god and we’ll give you back to him!”

He looked at them and saw many more people in their places: masses with weapons on a field shouting, nearing. He was a kid hiding behind a leg of a man crying in fear. So many died. So many times.  _ They.  _ The loss and anger _. Fear.  _ All the pain, blood and massacre of four thousand years. All the cries and tears. Time spending back and forth, in circle.  _ Hatred.  _ The crushing feeling of loss. Time repeating itself.

“There are no gods anymore.”

He stretched his hand toward the men, weapons focusing him: tranquilizers and real guns. But what was the world for a god, what was reality? The stones of the pavement moved at his anger, grabbing them, prepared to crush in an instant, only he caught a glimpse of himself in the window of the facing shop: saw the pair of pitch black eyes. He recognized the figure even as the kid changed so much... The chains binding him to the Void. The last one. Forever.

He was a prisoner and will always be.

The attackers were shouting in pain and fright on the ground, but he was just standing there watching, not feeling any remorse, just the bitter pointlessness of it all, the hollow cage formed by the past, the nothing he was closed up with forever. He wanted to shout – but let his hand down. Let them live.

“Run!” he ordered, let the neck of the last man go, throwing him and they did, turned at the corner and he was left alone with only the black dust on the pavement.

At least he thought so.

“You grew up.”

The Outsider turned to the voice. A man was standing not far behind him watching; looking just like the figure reflecting from the glass: slender build, pale skin, black hair and eyes, like him. Only he saw through the illusion, saw the blasted, stone like deformed figure: the soul he cursed, that was ruined forever. Recognized the face on the deformed monster; one of the last faces he saw, a man who tightened the ropes.

“I’ve never seen you outside the stone, kid. You look good as an adult.” The monster looked down at his hands. “I look good. But your damned curse made me look like this.” The illusion melted showing its real form.

It came closer and the Outsider stepped back watching every move tensely, prepared, but unable to say a thing fighting in the lost sense of reality. The images of the past emerged over his vision: these things, still human, their faces covered but he knew them. They all were there, in that cave, far from the burning city, the refugees. He couldn’t be in Dunwall, there was no Dunwall just a vision from the future. The burning citadel. He could’ve still made it, could save them, just no run anymore.

He kicked the blade that wounded him as he backed away, wound already healed and forgotten.

“It’s ironic how you’ll fight me with a knife.”

“I need no weapon to kill you.” He hissed, felt his eyes darken again, the power flowing under his skin like the streams in the Void, still below reach, but waiting to burst. Excitement under all this. An anger so justified.

“You weren’t able back then and aren’t able now. A stray kid like you… Mommy and daddy gone, living on the streets, eating shit, selling your body to old men, that's what you were. A kid uncalled for, one soul too many in the world.”

Its voice was rough, gravy; they were circling each other, ready to jump and attack.

“That’s what you want to know, don’t you? You’re looking for answers. I have them; I could tell you about a boy nobody cared for who was turned to a demon by accident. You were an experiment that accidentally succeeded, because you were close and cheap. Available. I could tell you all about that life you lived, the world. You think we did you wrong by turning you, you’re a fool. I could tell much about it – if you would just hear us out.”

“You have nothing to tell me.”

“You’ve no place in this world.” it stepped closer.

“You won’t get me alive.”

“Luckily you're needed only slightly not dead.”

The next fight was a tough one. He knew he was not prepared: knew these powers so well seeing the chosen use them, but having them now… he will never break free from the Void, it will never let him: that made him desperate and furious – but didn't taught him how to fight.

He was merely dodging, predicting moves and countering them: getting a few hits himself but doing well, being maybe stronger than the monster but getting tired quickly, focus slipping.  The street got destroyed around them even more: pavement cracked as forced to attack, stones ripped from it getting thrown, the winds leaving fistmarks on the walls. He dodged and attacked bringing in a few hit sending an iron pole through the chest of the monster, but a windblast threw him crashing his head to the stone debris.

“You’re still a stubborn motherfucker” the monster approached panting. “That never changed, eh?”

He tried to stand up, head bleeding, dizzied, lost in the citadel with the floating mountains, in the slums of the new age: a moment like this in every time, every future. Bitten into reality. A weak kid. Blasted humans! The monster stood above him preparing a blow and he was desperate to fight still, only a deafening noise distracted both of them.

“Stop it, hands in the air!”

An Overseer in a mask with a deep cut through the middle, his gun pointed at the monster, music box on his chest. That thing distorted the song of the Void and weak magic with it. Disgusting, barbaric. The monster thought the same blinking to the man grabbing the box ripping and throwing it, showing the Overseer with it.

“Aren’t you a brave little soldier of mankind?” The monster walked toward the Overseer on the ground. “Still lacking imagination just like the ancestors.”

“Let him be!” he stood up weakly.

“You just killed three men, but worry about this one. An Overseer of all things, now that’s interesting.”

The monster smashed the box stepping on it and in that moment the Outsider attacked: blinked behind the thing, smashing the whalebone knife from his pocket into its back, showing its legs with a windblast sending it to its knees, yanking the knife out and stabbing it into the head, but the monster was faster and disappeared before he could kill it.

There was nothing before him now, the man who once was one of the ones sacrificing him was gone, only the destroyed pavement under him was left, the dust of the three men scattered, his mind empty. Somewhere.

“Who are you?” the Overseer shouted weapon pointed at him this time, hand shaking. He knew the man will shoot, but haven't had it in himself to stop him and had no answers.

He lost; lost so many times.

“I asked something!”

But he didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Heard the man, but it felt like it came from far away, from the past or from the future, through the Veil. The man who was among the sacrificers, the black eyes, the powers, the realization of the connection to the Void heavy on his mind, the visions not leaving room to anything else…

The Overseer got more nervous, but he wasn’t sure he was even real.

“You’re the demon! The Outsider! What was that thing?!”

He will stop the bullet, or maybe he won’t. So many of kingdoms, so many kinds of men…

The Overseer touched his neck suddenly then collapsed sleep dart sticking out from under the collar. He watched the man falling and then laying there, mask fallen away.

Hands grabbed and shook him.

“Why were you just standing there? You could’ve died you idiot!”

Corvo. That man he knew, who he was looking for.

“You hear me? It’s blood, you’re bleeding, your head, can you talk?” Frightened little crow, grasping his arms painfully.

He pushed his forehead to Corvo’s, nose touching, eyes shut. Desperate. Hands tightening in Corvo’s clothes as if clinging to life, to a cliff, touching for reality.

He got pushed to the nearest wall, almost faltering in the debris of the street, back to the wall, a man in front of him so close their bodies touched, foreheads still together, the man’s hands on the wall both at his sides, like a shield protecting him, saving him from the world out there.

He touched Corvo's chest running his palms on the cloths, on his side, on wide shoulders pulling him even closer, embracing, burying his fingers in his hair on the nape, kissing his temple, his cheeks, other hand flat on the wall now, feeling the stone, the present, Dunwall, his chosen in his arm, banishing the images of other times, other presents. Corvo stiff and worried in his arm, almost shaking, clinging to him too, body pressed strongly to his: claiming, protecting, just like he wanted to since so many years.

Like he needed protection. Like he could get any.

Corvo never should’ve fallen in love with something like him. And that thought brought pain and loss almost crushing him again.

“I really only bring misery to you, don’t I?”

“No.” The hand fastened around him. “You bring me sanity, give me means, I… If I’m just a bit slower, that man would’ve killed you and you just… That thing. And you were just standing.”

He shushed Corvo kissing his cheeks again, his nose, eyes. Corvos was grabbing his hair, wanting, asking with every touch and heartbeat. So he kissed him: a tender, tentative thing, a breath of lips, but Corvo pounced on him immediately kissing with a force of a dying man, biting and sucking his lips, pushing him almost into the wall. And he just embraced him stronger for it, pulled even closer, both hands on the man’s neck now, guiding him, grabbing him, caressing his back, palm flat on his lower back almost too low.

Corvo pulled pack first, panting, still grabbing his clothes.

“Sorry.”

“For I kissed you?” he smiled softly caressing the man’s hair.

Corvo shook his head, drawing back a little to look into his eyes, wiping off a trace of blood from his face. The man looked concerned, afraid and he himself didn’t feel any better.

“I’m fine, you see? It’s healed already.”

Corvo shook his head again.

“You have magic.”

He closed his eyes, laid his head on Corvo’s shoulder. “Seems like… I didn’t know.”

“That thing came for you. They are the ones in the city causing havoc.”

He didn’t say anything to that, running his fingers on Corvo’s cloths, around the buttons, watching the traces they left. Not really thinking rather just swimming in the aftermath of it all: the killing, the fighting, the visions, the touches. What it all meant.

“I’ll stop them. You hear me, I won’t let anything happen to... “ The city, Emily, the people here, him. That almost made him laugh out bitterly. Corvo knew priorities; it was one of the things he loved about him.

“This is my battle now, my dear, I will fight this.”

“Alone?”

He should’ve. This was a thing he needed to do, not concerning Corvo, the Empire, anybody. And still, as Corvo tried to step back due to the lack of response he grabbed his arm, keeping him close, laying his head on the man’s shoulder, embracing him softly and Corvo cradled him.

 

*

 

Adeline

 

Finding Delilah’s place turned out to be not as hard as she anticipated. It was late in the afternoon but she did manage to seek it out in twelve ours top.

It was the leftover feeling of Delilah's magic that showed her the place: like it emitted a warm feeling, home in a sense, that only was palpable for the people who knew what magic felt like: like fitting in, being at the right place, being part of something bigger than life itself.

But even magic wasn’t the same for everyone. For Delilah it was about the power first and foremost, a weapon against injustice, for many others it was about the feeling of power, the might, money and she knew some real bad people too distorting even magic with their own minds. And still finding magic like this was a delight every time for everyone.

The house itself was nothing remarkable: a two story building with a neglected garden and a broken fountain. Rich once, she was sure, abandoned for years. Nobody stopped her as she circled the house and climbed over the walls then made her way through the overgrown garden and entered the house.

The place was full of boxes, statues, clothes, magical ingredients, parts of altars, whale bones, the most necessary things to equip a palace devoted to magic and the Outsider. He could look through these things for days and could be none the wiser. She needed some clues where to start.

What happened in the past few days was extraordinary, so she guessed the thing explaining it would also be something unique, big or terrifying, something one wouldn’t see every day or hidden or just…  _ something. _

But she found nothing like this, read into a few books on the way, but met all mundane things, well mostly, definitely not what she was looking for though.

She wandered to the second floor and found Delilah’s room there, or an alcove rather, separated with a paravan from the rest of the room that also was crammed with boxes. Still the alcove had to be Delilah’s. She recognized the patterns: the chosen colors, the things around the mattress just like her leader’s room in Karnaca.

She had spent much time with Delilah learning witchcraft and the way of things from her. The magic of the great woman could be felt even now with her skin above the main gate of Dunwall and for a moment the absence of her master hit her so hard she had to sit down.

Maybe the age of the witches really was over before it could’ve started because of another chosen, a traitor, Corvo Attano siding with the Abbey and the blind stupid humans instead of the Almighty. She loathed him, the whole Palace, the royalties with their worthless might and purposeful blindness.

But at least maybe she could still get answers. This was the next place to look, and in a corner hidden under pillows and books she really found a wooden box filled with notes and audiographs.

There was  _ Dishonored...something _ written on some of them. Delilah’s writing was terrible at best.  _ Great man? Voice?  _ But there was one  _ Outsider _ written on it among other words. That sounded promising and she looked for a phonograph to play it.

Not long after Delilah’s voice filled the room.

_ “Maybe this should’ve been the part I start with explaining why I now know all the things I talked about before, but the discovery I made filled my mind and soul so much I had to talk it out, even if I will be the only one knowing. Do I have the right to share this with anyone? Do I have the right not to talk about it? _

_ I was banished into the Void, but not like the Outsider, he was the part of it and I were a mere ghost drifting there. But I found the altar he was sacrificed on and at the end of my search I found him frozen into stone. I wanted to kill him, take his place, his powers. I never found him good enough for a god: too weak, too disinterested. Now I’m just glad it’s not me who had to face his fate and answer the questions. _

_ Because as I stood before him, I could look behind his back to a past unreachable for him. I saw the world before the Outsider, an age greater than ours, saw the war, saw the creation and saw the things leading to the sacrifice of a kid. I know who he was and why he has to be closed up there forever for all of us, for whatever the fuck may happen…” _


	3. Thirty-six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This 3 months etap will be probably my thing in the future too, sadly. English is a damn hard language for the long run. BUT I'm at the point where I have to translate back from English to my native to write something kinda decent, soo… that's progress, I guess?

Corvo

 

After they got back to the palace that day, he had jobs to do: talking with the city guard about the harbor and the sickness in the light of what he found out that day, making plans concerning the witches – even the Abbey now. Obadiah was a fine man, but who knew what he would tell the Abbey. And even the monsters now roaming in the city, burning down the prison, leading the witches according what the Outsider said on the way back about the attackers. Envisioned – Meagan called them, when he asked her about it just a few hours before. The ones she didn’t killed in the mine being too strong to face.

And the god was silent again the whole time through that conversation, listening only, making Corvo only more concerned. The Outsider never saw that mine or the creatures in this form before, they being “behind his back” – as he said --, just as his past, anything ahead of his death.

Now the Envisioned were here for him, and that elemental hatred against them burned Corvo’s chest like fire, even more as the Outsider didn’t want his help. Despite what happened that afternoon, the attack, the… kiss. That damn kiss, that damn arms around him, the taste-, the touch of him. His fingers twitched around his cup of tea, chest feeling heavy. The  _ feelings _ he fought for so long choked him, the sadness and desperation of the man’s embrace crashed his soul, asking without words to hold him.

The Outsider sometimes didn’t know what’s real around him. He could lose him to this, but haven’t he lost enough already? Jessamine, Emily twice almost, the relationship with her daughter to his past and position of Lord Protector. Being nobody, a shadow behind the Empress suited him for decades; not having a place, not having anything personal has been the way things should’ve worked, except now… – He was watching the mark on his hand not asleep like before, but not working either.

The Outsider came to him as human, to see him, before leaving… kissing him even if out of desperation. To live a life. Haven’t they both already lost too much?

He saw the god from his office’s window wandering in the private part of the garden, watched the graceful steps, the figure human and still not resembling anybody. An artifact from the past, a man who knew everything but had no roots, no feelings, no conscience. But that was a lie too wasn’t it.

The Outsider was different now than in the Void: conflicted. Trying and failing to be indifferent, but maybe that was a lie too.

Emily asked who he was, still not officially meeting him, just getting a glance from afar. He told her he was a friend who helped him in Karnaca, but had a feeling Emily recognized him anyway from the time she spent captive in the Golden cat and at Havelock. The Outsider took care of her and calmed her when her parents weren’t able: telling her stories about her mother and playing with her. Corvo was sure the god wasn’t doing this for just anyone.

Emily talked about him a lot back then, draw him even, and… that made him uneasy at first, because of the Abbey, what it’ll mean if they ever find out. Nobody could be really Empress without the support of the Abbey, so he tried to keep her daughter away from the god, away from everything he was doing back then, who he became and with that away from himself actually. Never a dad, Lord Protector only, a man behind the throne, in the shadow, full of secrets.

He was no dad, never really a lover either, but then a god’s chosen him – twice –, and now he stood again neck-deep in a shitstorm fighting for  _ him _ , and fighting maybe at last for  _ himself _ .

The Outsider was standing at Jessamine’s grave when he found him not caring too much about the monument watching rather the city deep in thought. The forenoon sun was gone, the sky overcasted, wind bringing the smell of thunder, salt and dead fish. A downpour was anticipated in every minute.

The Outsider turned to him as he approached.

“You better?” Corvo asked warily.

The god shrugged. “Fine it would seem. Better. Although angry; I haven’t been angry for a very long time now despite expectations. The beginning of my ‘reign’” he shook his head at that smiling bitterly “was chaos, I had to learn how to ‘manifest’ in the nothing there, and those times are kind of lost too because of it: few decade only perceived as visions not memories. Not like it matters. But I don’t remember being angry even then: sad, lost, disappointed, resigned, pointless… too weary and hollow. But now the anger makes me feel alive, every day makes me feel less empty, and it makes me think.”

“Here?” he looked down to the grave of the late Empress.

“Here too.” That was all the answer he got, the god looking away arms folded, guarded, like he was compensating being vulnerable earlier that day, or being sincerely unsure about something.

They stood there in comfortable silence that was still heavy with things they should’ve talked about. Corvo was watching the god and the monument.

“I wasn’t the man Jessamine wanted me to be.” he said at last. “I could’ve been her consort, but I refused several times not wanting to lose my position as Lord Protector.”

“Not like it worth much in the end.”

“Against your marked, but you’re right.”

“And still you never recognized Emily as your daughter.”

“That would’ve made me an aristocrat, losing all control over her safety. I was afraid for her, tried to shield her from the Abbey, the people, the opposing aristocrats. They couldn’t know I’m her father after what I did and how I did things back then. The Abbey wanted to burn me even years after the mask.”

He looked away from the grave, back to the palace, the god following his gaze.

“You told me you liked the decisions I made as your chosen, but my life is full of mistakes: failing the ones counting on me, not acting when I should’ve.”

“Should have for who?”

“For the ones I loved. Act to make them happy. I chose order against feelings in every damn decision I made. I lost much and I brought sadness to many people who trusted me: let the woman I loved die, made my daughter grew up alone, ‘cause I’m a stubborn fool.”

“There are lives in you acted differently, only this one being real obviously, but happiness is relative; yours and the other’s also. I can see those realms around us, all of them, but labeling them as better or worse makes no sense. Not even if I ask whether any of them is better for you only.”

“Am I a chosen there too?”

“In some where Jessamine dies; chosen twice only in a few. But there are some where your life isn’t this hard: you have a family, Jessamine, Emily, or somebody else. You live your life not leaving your handprint on the world and it worth not less. Although worth is not less relative than happy. Life has no aim, it’s something against nothing, worth has no relation in that. A calm life in devotion to others is as meaningful as a life destroying many. Everything changes something, every decision means something positive to some and negative to others. The best intentions cause as much harm as the worst, only humans can’t see the consequences in time. The only question worth asking is whether you regret the life you lived.”

In the light of everything. The hardest question he has to answer ever, the hardest to say out loud.

“No.”

A long pause where the Outsider was watching him searching.

“Must be nice being so sure about yourself. Even about the decisions that caused you pain.”

“As you were unconfident.” he shrugged.

“Unconfident about what? Can an almighty be unconfident? My word was law my will reality, I saw the consequences of every possible decision and I haven’t interfered much aside from choosing my marked. For what should I have? This world? Humans?” he asked with such contempt Corvo looked at him warily. “The cold- and hollowness of the Void saved your kind. Killed me, deadened my anger, made me see their patheticness and strength sometimes. Made me realize hatred won’t solve anything, only makes me alike them. But things changed. I am human and now hate them coming after me… endangering you. That should be my part.”

The Outsider sighted watching the grey city; the sky thundered not far from them and the wind rose again.

“I am confident in myself, but as human my future is concealed before me. Not acting brings you only this far and I’m not sure what waits for me at the end of the road.”

“That’s life for you. Must be frightening.”

“Uncertain and uncomfortable. May my past be painless, may my future be…”

“Happy?”

The Outsider chuckled. “I don’t even know what I can ask for.” Still he looked at him with a glance full of questions.

He remember the kiss, hoped the god meant that, that it meant anything. Even if it was just the desperation of the situation or some passing need, even if there won’t be any more of that, he wished him to want to stay. Wished him to want a real connection, being together as friends, as chosen, as anything. Even if the anything now felt frightening and surreal.

“It’s alright not to know how to proceed. You just became human. I know it’s hard: getting a life, finding yourself living with the memories. It is alright to be devastated, to not know how to handle the trauma.”

“Like you when Jessamine died.”

“Like me when you left for the second time.”

“Corvo…” The god was lost of words for long moments, almost saying the things on his mind, but staying silent in the last second. “You don’t know me. I don’t know me.”

What did he know really? What kind of man he was? A stoic ghost when they first met, more vivid for the second time, a troubled man now. He  _ felt  _ who he was, knew it from the gestures, the things he did and didn’t talked about, do and didn’t do, the use of words, the glances, the anger and indifference that peeled off of him slowly. And he loved the person he was getting to really know after so many years, no past could matter in that.

“I know it’s irritating: not knowing why they came after you, whether the things happening have anything to do with you, why you and you only have now magic. You have concerns facing the past, but you can’t win if you don’t know what you are facing against.” It was how the god helped him too, talked about the dangers and possibilities of his missions: made him survive, go in brave and prepared. “And you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I am dangerous.”

Corvo shrugged. “So am I.”

The Outsider watched him for a long time, fingers twitching like he wanted to touch him, but Corvo got scared almost stepping back being in the garden on plain sight for anyone.

The Lord Protector couldn’t: not with Jessamine, not with his daughter, not now, not like this despite what he wanted; and the god turned his gaze.

He almost apologized, but the Outsider was faster.

“Walk with me!”

He did, leaving Jessamine’s grave behind, like he left her soul not long ago, letting her rest, saying goodbye and apologizing. He missed her sometimes, missed both for fourteen years. There won’t be a time she will be not important but he moved on long ago, letting the memories go before the soul.

The Outsider lead him toward the rose garden, the gem of the palace a bit worse for wear after the fights. They walked on the narrow paths among the bushes only a few still blooming into the month of rain: the most beautiful, fittest, strongest. He liked these the most.

The god stopped at one of the rose bushes admiring the flowers, searching, picking a young one at the top of its glory with broad petals and lively colors.

The rain started to drizzle. The Outsider broke down the thorns of the rose.

“You shape the world around you” the god mused “change anything you don’t like. Isn’t it what everyone wants? Power. You don’t need magic for that, even though there was a time I could’ve told a mountain to flatten and it would’ve obeyed.”

“Why would’ve you asked something like that?”

“Ask the Abbey, I bet they have an answer…”

Corvo smiled at that watching the god arranging the petals, making the rose look even bigger, more stunning.

“Jessamine never picked flowers, she said they would just die and what beauty is in that?”

“And what do you think?”

“I never had time to muse about flowers.”

The god smiled. “No, you didn’t. You are more pragmatic than that, being a soldier and a spy in all your life. Flowers are just plants; they won’t hurt you losing all your interest with that. But you do think about death.”

“I… there is nothing pretty about that.”

“No. It’s just a thing that happens: a machine that worked before stops, a soul that was alive before disperses. It spends a short time in the Void and then melts into nothing. Like this flower” he caressed the petals. “But a rose bush is different. You can tear every flower from it, take away everything, and it will bloom the same next year. Like life and humans, there always will be another no matter how painful it is or how much they have to suffer... So you shall choose always the best for your purposes.”

The Outsider hoisted the rose into his jacket carefully, leaving his hand on his chest.

“And if you can choose for a purpose, you will choose carefully. Like I chose a man I find joy in… Like if you want to make a god, one that lives forever and can form this world as he likes, you won’t choose just anybody – not a random kid from the streets.”

The god stepped back.

“This suits you.” he admired his work.

Corvo touched the flower. “I know what you said, but you can’t ask me not to help.”

“Maybe.” They stood close to each other in the light rain, the Outsider brushed a wet strand from his face. He looked tired and concerned. “I came to this city for you, and still I can’t promise you anything, my dear.”

“I haven't asked you to.”

The god nodded. The rain got harder.

 

#  *****

 

Meagan

 

Meagan was watching Corvo and the Outsider from the window smiling slightly. She made a good decision coming here, was proud, and just overall relieved, that things seemed to work out.

The door opened behind her, a servant came to announce the arriving of the Empress.

Her Majesty Emily Kaldwin became a beautiful, strong and graceful young lady since she last saw her with gentle eyes that could still break pompous riches and military bastards if she wanted. She liked that look; a little even more now that she was at the other end of the spike; it reminded her of so many past lovers at once she almost smiled.

“How can I serve you your Majesty?” she asked bowing.

The servant left, leaving just the two of them. Emily stayed at the middle of the room looking pissed.

“I know who you are.”

That evoked a long pause where Meagan was trying to figure out whether she will be banished or executed.

“Corvo told you?” she asked at last, when Emily stayed silent.

“No, he would never, my father protecting me too much. I, on the other hand, won’t take any of it, you know I’ve spymasters and informants on my own.” The Empress continued before she could talk “And before you ask, yes, I know everything: Daud, mother… Delilah. Everything as I said.”  

Emily looked conflicted for a moment saying that but sorted her features immediately and passed her without sparing a glance walking to the window, keeping her back to Meagan.

Another long pause followed now filled with tension from Meagan’s part. Her past was… her past. The things done couldn’t be undone, couldn’t be get away from, and it wouldn’t even be fair. Deep down she knew she will pay for the things she had done and still in that moment there was only one thought on her mind:  _ please not yet.  _ For a second she almost felt the coldness of the Void inside herself again; didn’t said anything out loud though, only when after long moments Emily still refused to continue.

“So? What’s now?”

“Do you think he is happy?”

That got her confused. “Pardon me.”

“My father, do you think he is happy?”

She joined Emily at the window warily, looking at Corvo and the Outsider again walking so close to each other toward the rose garden. She had her opinion about them spending three months with Corvo and a few weeks with the Outsider. She’s heard and saw them talking about and looking at each other, it was so damn obvious she risked the Abbey coming here; but this wasn’t something she wanted to talk about with Corvo’s daughter; especially now.

“I couldn't tell.”

“That man... My father thinks I don’t recognize him, because he is a bit different on the paintings and I was younger. Although he  _ is _ aware I met him before and he hasn’t changed a dime.”

“You met him, my Lady?” she raised a brow.

“When I was a young girl held captive by the Pendletons he appeared to me encouraging and comforting me after all that happened, told me my father was alive and was looking for me. He played with me when I was alone for days, talked to me when I had nobody else even after Corvo found me.”

“The Outsider helped you more than he ever helped anybody.”

“But he didn’t do it for me.” The Empress was looking at the two men down in the garden. “Corvo… I understood it only after the throne was reclaimed and dad… broke? Kind of. I was angry for ages thinking somehow the Outsider had something to do with my dad being distant and cold, only after I had to deal with the Abbey on my own for a few years do I understand it more clearly why he was like that, why I couldn’t have him, how everything would’ve changed upon the Outsider staying. But now he is human somehow. I’m glad.”

“That man hurt Corvo though.” Meagan said. “And he will cause you trouble with the Abbey.”

“I will deal with the Abbey” she dismissed her impatiently “and as for father… I think he is happy. More happy than I saw him for a long time. But I wasn’t looking for you because of that. I want to offer you a job… as Lady Protector.”

That gave her a pause.

“That’s a really bad idea.” she shook her head. “After the life I lived. You know I betrayed more people than I could count.”

“And you so very sorry and everything. I know this kind, Meagan, you think Corvo hasn’t betrayed anyone? He hasn’t betrayed me and that’s the only thing I ask from you too. But you wouldn’t, would you? After my mother, working with Corvo, saving that man… You owe me. I don’t know what happened to you in Karnaca, but you live here like a ghost; with all the skill you need as Protector.”

“Would you fire your own father?”

Emily looked taken aback. “Of course not! You will work with him for a time. But… maybe… He is a great Protector, Meagan but many years passed, many that I spent alone and maybe he wants something else too... I lost my mother and I want my father, but I won’t get him until he is Lord Protector still.”

These were the words of child, honest, almost desperate, painfully understandable; and it was her ticket for a new life – if she wanted it. Leaving Billie and everything else finally behind.

 

#  *****

 

Envisioned

 

The Envisioned leader was pissed watching his defeated companion leaning to the railing of the roof above the zigzagged old city. They were wearing the image of the kid still, the form the world know him about now.

He did changed a bit since he was alive, not that much. Almost like no time has passed…  Except it did, and he spent those blasted four thousand years in a cave watching the kid and studying how to make things right. He was tired and apathetic, the escape of the kid destroyed everything and now it seemed likely they will never catch him again before he wakes. Who could know what’ll happen after that. This was a danger he should have been prepared for, but he wasn’t, and now the black clouds were gathering above them – literally.

“It’s your fault.” he said to his companion.

“It had to be tried. Who would’ve known he has his powers back already… He is strong, Excellence.”

“Stronger than he was?”

His companion shrugged. “Who remembers?”

“You should dumbass, or we die! Are you this stupid?”

“We had to try and I lost, what else do you want?” the companion cried out angrily, but they fall silent as some of the witches hiding in the house came out to smoke.

The Excellence was watching the weathered roofs of the house, reminders of the civil war. The world changed so much… He couldn’t even recognize it: no more citadel, no more floating city, no more people who saw the future. He felt the time passing and still they never saw anything just the inside of the mines knowing about the outside world only from the stories of the cultists.  _ Cultists.  _ How barbaric.

If he had known this will happen, that they will loose and this will be how the world turns out he may not have fought so vehemently, or at all. And now even the little they built up was crumbling in the absence of the kid. He lost twice, that hurt the most.

“He still doesn’t remember.” His companion said much calmer watching the witches under them.

“For how long?”

The companion shrugged. “Not long enough. What will happen when he starts?”

He didn’t know: something between death and acceptance. The world was disappointing, only he was still fighting for it, to make it better, no kid could stop him in that but no betterment was in sight without the kid.

“I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Imagine if you did, how stupid you would have to be to do that?”

The companion shrugged. “He is stronger than me, has a whalebone knife, could be doing the damn ritual in this moment and we couldn’t do anything without alerting the whole city. He isn’t alone and we seem to be losing even our witches.”

The Excellence sighted. His companion was right in this: they did lost Uriah and the witches under his lead to this attack. Uriah felt the power of the kid hanging in his hand, felt what he was, how different, ancient, great. Fucking aura of his kind… Now the witches were asking questions. The sorry excuses of witches rather.

“We could always go to the Abbey inciting them against his friend.”

His companion looked at him outraged. “I die before I work with those traitors.”

“This saying is only fun when is no actual death in the book.”

“For fuck sake, making the kids life harder with looking like him is one thing allying with the Abbey is another. I won’t do that and you can’t. We didn’t followed you this far just to betray what we all died for.”

Cause really they all died that day with the kid and he couldn’t even really blame him for that. But the predecessors of the Abbey betrayed all of them. His companion was right.

“So we besiege the palace with the witches?”

“They are not strong enough and are full with doubt.”

“So it’s all upon us again.”

“So it would seem.”

He was watching the gray clouds above them, it started raining, a few fat drop landed on his face. The last time he felt the rain he was in the Floating city with the ancients.

All that greatness turned to this world: this gray, filthy thing with death and hatred. Full with the things he was fighting. If he had known...

“One more thing” his companion said. “the woman who run away from the prison hadn’t been found yet. I have no idea what she knows and from where she knows it but she recognized us.”

One of the last one of the true believers: a tortured witch with a death warrant on her face.

“Keep looking, we need her before she stumbles upon the kid accidentally.”

 

#  *****

 

Corvo

 

Corvo sneezed.

“Getting cold, my little crow?” he heard from the other side of the paravan.

“Whose idea was again to stay in the rain? Deserves a day in a cell.” He  _ heard _ the smirk. “If I get sick, you’re grounded.”

“Like I would let you get sick.”

“Without a second thought.”

“Only to make you rest a little.”

He smiled to himself, buttoning up his shirt. Why was he missing this so much? The banter, the closeness, more he ever had before. Only two days, but he felt… happy. Even like this, cold to the bone, tired, with the leftover stress of the afternoon.

The situation wasn’t by far the same as in the past when they spent time together. That was brief in Dunwall, annoying in Karnaca knowing it will end again. Meeting him, getting to know him better just to say goodbye… And still now this felt natural, their lives fitting together like there were ages behind them. Domesticated. Like a breath of fresh air, a calmer life he never had, with monster of course, because he was like attracting these kind of things.

He was changing his clothes behind a paravan, the Outsider’s getting dressed somewhere on the other side. He felt self-conscious for his age, how ridiculous and didn’t know what the god would say upon changing before each other. Better safe than sorry with these boundaries… not even sure what he wanted for now. What he could even ask for, as the Outsider said. 

“I was thinking about having dinner, you could join.” he offered. Like yesterday. That was a nice surprise, his appearance, stepping into his life again… He didn’t get an answer. “You there?” he rounded the paravan still not fully buttoned.

The Outsiders was standing before a mirror in pants and open shirt running his fingers softly on the long red scar just above the collarbones circling his neck almost totally. He died from that – the thought hit him, the reality of the information he always knew, but never  _ felt _ the weight of it. This man was murdered once, and although the altar shook him deeply as the Outsider showed him, now, seeing the sorrow in the man’s eye he really felt what it all meant.

Their eyes met in the mirror for a long moment.

“I would make it disappear if I could…” the god traced the line “but it seems it is who I am now. I don’t know where I got this body from. It is the one I had in the Void, but not the one I… well, not remember. It feels younger in the visions. But again I must’ve been younger once, am I not?” He let his hand fall from the scar, but not turning from the mirror.

Corvo watched him: the healthier but still pale, lean body, the sad, thoughtful expression, his fingers touching the desk under the mirror, his own clothes and skin, clinging to reality.

He stepped behind to calm him, laying his hands on his sides, feeling the ribs, the softness of his clothes. They eyes met again, but the Outsider closed his in his hand pressing back to his chest. He looked so young without those haunted eyes and Corvo looked old behind him. He  _ was _ old: his hair greying, hands calloused, skin battered even if he tried to stay in good shape. Like those old rich perverts with young lovers.

He pulled the Outsider closer, to his chest, embracing him softly, hand on his chest, abdomen carefully through the clothes, laying his forehead on his shoulder. The god caressed his hand leaning back to the embrace.

“There were many people in the past trying to seduce me.” the god said, continuing before Corvo could object that he wasn’t really doing that. “They got naked before my altars, or got chained to one on their backs legs wide open; wanted this on their own or were forced: young girls expected to get pregnant, young boys aiming to please me. Some of them got beaten up if I liked tortured souls more…”

“Did you ever…”

“Oh please, Corvo! It made me sick and I punished them creatively. What is sex to a ghost in the Void? With those humans of all things.” He sounded angry again for a second, but didn’t let go of his hand. “I’m not somebody you can make to be interested.” The god stepped away, turning to face him. “With you on the other hand…”

It implied so much, Corvo’s knees went weak. Their eyes met for a brief second, then the gaze of the Outsider wandered down to his chest; his fingers touched his neck lightly, running slowly on the muscles down along the veins to his collar bones and sternum, with all his attention in the touch, fascinated.

Corvo took a shaky deep breath, didn’t dare to close his eyes, watching the fingers on his chest now wandering down on his abdomen, unbuttoning the shirt he managed to do before. The fingers stopped at the top of his pants.

“I haven’t touched anyone since four thousand years.” the god mused. “Maybe not even before that. There are many things I’m not sure about and none of those is you, my dear little crow…”

He pulled the god closer, embracing him with one hand, other tight on his arm. Kissed his temple, not really urging him to touch lower, but pushing his hip to the touch. The Outsider smiled, kissed him for real, run his finger on a nipple. Corvo shivered and grabbed his hand.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” But of course he knew, he always did. And Corvo desperately  _ wanted _ . After the kiss that day, the touches, the talks, the past years, he wanted to hold him, be close to him, kiss him, embrace him, be the one who is  _ there, _ who is  _ his _ . Despite what the Outsider said just a moment before he craved to be the exception, to have him at last, to make a god really human. “But I don’t want you to do something you would regret.”

At that the god pulled back and Corvo almost grabbed again stopping him.

“Am I moving too fast?” the god searched his face. “I won’t force you my dear.”

Corvo stepped closer again, touching him, pressing their foreheads together. “It’s not about that, you know it. I...” He wanted this so much, craved it, needed it. But...

The Outsider caressed his cheek. “Back then you were looking for me wherever you went, run to my shrines for protection, rest, a place to hide from the guards and the cold night, to talk. I watched you sleeping on the floor, tending your wounds. The world was against you and you found protection with me. I helped Emily, showed you new ways with my runes, tested you sometimes cruelly, and you always came back to the shrines, seeking me, reaching for me… and somewhere on the line you fell in love.”

Corvo tightened his grip, closed his eyes embarrassed. Of course the god knew about that, he wasn’t even hiding it that much, not even back then, but still hearing it from his mouth made it so much worse – and arousing.

“Back then you wished I was human, somebody to sit down with and talk to, come home to, somebody who stays, who can be really there for you not only at the shrines, somebody who would hold you when everything hurts, who waits for you and loves you back… Impossible things, but… Sometimes I wanted to be that man for you so much.”

Fuck regret. He kissed him, because he was right, he was here now, impossible things coming through and they could have this now, feel this now, ask for this now, the things they were both wanting for ages. The Outsider kissed him back, hands under his clothes again touching skin.

“I never wanted to be real before you showed up.”

“I wanted you so much.”

“I’m here now.”

“Yes.” he kissed him again, hand on his nape, and still guided by the Outsider mouth. He was allowed to do this, got control as a present, temporarily, the chance to touch, still lead by his partner. It felt so safe and got him nervous at the same time.

“Isn’t it alright?” the Outsider breathed on his lips, fingers buried into his hair.

It was the most alright he ever felt. He draw the shirt off of the god’s shoulder, let it fall to the ground helping a little at the wrists. Kissed his shoulders, neck, the collarbones, the scar, biting slightly, the Outsider’s hands on his side caressing, lips on him. He stopped at the waistband of the god trousers, opening it felt like disrespect, blasphemy. But wasn’t it the point of it all? He was there, human, reachable, his…His.

He stroked him through the underpants earning a hard exhale and a soft laugh for himself.

“Do you know how much sex I’ve seen?” the Outsider pushed back to him. “ Plenty. Enough for many lifetimes. I wasn’t looking for it of course, but it is a significant part of the human life. Most of the action wasn’t remarkable, but when it was… when it meant something for both…”

“Even sex can’t shut you up.”

“You’ll have to work more for that” he smirked; was hard though, pushing back into Corvo’s palm.

He wanted to see him naked, gasping for air, grabbing the sheets, crying his name. Wanted  _ him. _

“Come to bed with me” the Outsider stepped back pulling him gently. He stood at the end of the wide bed with the dark sheets taking off his trousers and socks, looking back behind his shoulder as he felt Corvo watching his every move. “Stoic as ever.”

“I’m not stoic” he stepped closer still watching the lithe form, the strong and still elegant line of bones and muscles. It was confirmed for him again, how different the Outsider looked: his shape, the posture, the strength of his back, his words, his personality, his gaze as it locked with his. Human and not, beautiful but in a special way that mesmerized him.

The god smiled as he sat on the bed now naked, slipped a bit further and lay among the pillows and blankets. His pale skin contrasted the dark bedding, like jewelry, that gentle, suggestive smile made his heart beat faster and dick harden even more. The god reached for him, and Corvo undressed fast, following him to bed, kneeled above him, holding himself up with one hand beside his partner’s head and bent down to kiss him. Lightly at first and ever deeper, slower, hungrier, till their chests and hips touched, grinding to each other.

The Outsider cupped his face as he pulled back to breath caressing his cheeks with his thumb and Corvo kissed into his palm. That got him a kiss on his temple, a loving touch pulling him back closer; all the encouragement he needed. He kissed the god’s neck, the collarbones, his chest, the nipples, what made the Outsider moan low and grab his hair, his abdomen, thighs, groin. He looked up for confirmation before he put his dick into his mouth: licking the tip, than swallowing as much as he could and work his way down from that.

The taste, the scent, the low groans and whimpers were driving him crazy, the pull of the sheets as the Outsider grabbed them. He tasted great, sounded great with his quiet pleas, exhales, with the touches that said so much more, wanted so much more…

“Corvo…”

He couldn’t have him only for now – it hit him – just couldn’t.

“Corvo.” The god sat up, pulling him up gently, kissing him with so much longing his heart ached.

He got pulled onto the Outsiders lap, legs circling the god, dick and forehead touching, kissing again now with more force while the long fingers of the god stroked, jerked  both of them.

“My dear little darling…”

Corvo wanted anything and everything, or at least something, he tried to push the Outsider gently back to the sheets but he didn’t have any of that, pushing Corvo to his back this time with a swift move, getting over him, clamping his hands above his head.

His dick twitched in anticipation, legs opened up automatically. The Outsider chuckled.

“So willing for me, my dear, trusting me... I could do whatever I want now and you would welcome it, wouldn’t you? Could tie you up, beat you, torture you, eat you alive, use you whatever way I see fit, leave and you couldn’t stop me...” he leaned closer kissing his forehead and eyes tenderly despite his words. “But I won’t hurt you like this ever again, won’t let you get hurt if I can help it.” he grabbed his dick again, stroking slowly but so firmly Corvo cried out.

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Whatever you want, just…” he arched his back, trying to push back to the hand stroking him, force a faster pace without success.

“What I want… I didn’t come here to ask for things, Corvo. I didn’t come to you to make you do things, force you, or trick you to do anything, didn’t come for wealth or a place to stay. What I  _ wanted _ was to see you once more from this side, but what  _ you  _ want is to make sure you don’t have to let me go again, that I will stay with you, choose you, be yours. You want to claim me, mark me as I marked you, chain me to yourself… and I will let you if you really want it.”

The Outsider hands stopped with his words, hands pulled back, but gaze still locked with his. For a moment he felt lost of words, chest tight, dick painfully hard, hands almost shaking as he reached up to touch the cheeks of the god, and he could only nod. He wanted this, all of this, leaving a mark on him, making him part of him, like he did so many years ago, keeping him by his side. Fuck everything else.

“Want you.”

“Very well.” the god kissed him lying down beside him.

Corvo turned to be above him again, one hand under the gods head, other on this body wandering on the soft skin, touching, caressing, stroking and this time the Outsider was the one pushing back to him as he kissed him.

But he may had a problem.

“I don’t have anything here.”

“I’m not fragile.”

“Still…”

“Huss, my dear. It’ alright, trust me in this, I would tell.”

He nodded kissing him again, then wet his finger generously, circled his hole before pushing in with one finger gently, carefully. The Outsider groaned, hided his face into his chest, turning to his side, leg pulled up, laid on Corvo’s tight to let his man touch more easily.

Corvo pulled him closer, cradled him, wanting to just eat him, keeping him there forever.

As he could move easier he added a second then a third finger all while embracing and kissing his partner, listening to the quiet moans, whimpers, the sights of his name as he hit his prostate. Even this was more as he ever hoped he would get after the tragedy in the past. He loved this man in his arms clinging to him, embracing him, pushing back, giving himself up to him, letting him be close, to hold him, to feel his longing, his love…

He pulled back eventually.

“Are you ready?” the Outsider looked up.

“I should be the one asking this.”

That got him a chuckle and the Outsider turned to his back, pulling his legs up, opening them wide, Corvo now before him. He lubricated himself with precum and saliva put his cock to the entrance and eyes locked he pushed in slowly. The heat and tightness made him almost lose it dancing on the edge for a long time now, nearly made him slam in fully to the root, fuck him senseless, hardly resisting.

The Outsider’s chest rose and sank, his eyes dark now, still human, but heavy with want and arousal. They kept a slow place with long, deep thrusts, devouring every minute, every sense, every moan, sight, touch of it. He got pulled down for a kiss, and never got released, but embraced strongly, the thrusts becoming ever shallower and quicker, aiming directly for the prostate, both panting, getting close, desperate.

“Give me your hand!” the Outsider ordered, grabbing his marked hand. “Feel it?”

He nodded, feeling the pulsation in his hand, the mark, like it got bigger, stronger, reaching up on his arm, shoulder, whole body. He felt the god at the other end of it, felt his presence, his mind, feelings, the sensation overwhelming him for a second, pushing him even further, to the brink of orgasm: asking, crying, begging.

“Come on, darling I’ve got you.” the Outsider embraced him kissing his forehead. “Cum, my dear!”

The tone, the caress, the tightening of the gods body pushed him over the edge, ripping out his orgasm with a cry and he collapsed onto his partner shaking, kissing, panting for minutes, the Outsider embracing him tenderly, lost also in the post-orgasm bliss.

Minutes passed while nothing could be heard except their breaths and heartbeats, nothing moved only their hands on each other, the god’s lips on his head. He closed his eyes enjoying the moment: the happiness and content, the closeness, love and safety that filled him. The mark pulsed still and he felt the presence at the other end more clearly than ever before.

“What’ve you done with it?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing. It just… happened. You can feel me now, as I can feel you.” The hand stopped for a moment on his back. “I can make it back, if you want.”

“No” he said firmly. “I want this.” he closed his eyes, kissing his lover chest. “This is how it should’ve been from the start.” The Outsider chuckled gently at that. “I won’t let you go.”

“You mean I will let you make me stay.” He felt the god get more serious again. “Though neither of us should make promises we can may never keep…”

He wasn’t wrong and he could do nothing but embrace him tighter.

 

#  *****

 

Adeline

 

Adeline had a troubled sleep on the floor of Delilah’s hideout tossing and turning among the books, notes and audiographs she studied to exhaustion. She dreamed about the things she gathered: a world full of magic, the  _ paradise _ , a life in the presence of the gods, in their glory – the things she’s been craving in all her life: safety, sureness, happiness, calmness…

She cried much that day listening to the graphs, imagining a world she could never experience. But those dreams turned slowly into nightmares about a hollow place with the floating rocks and ghosts of the past. She recognized the Void even never seeing it before. It couldn’t be anything else: the dead rocks, it’s age, the power, that menacing, cold, presence. Alien. The absence of life.

She wasn’t alone there, one of the dark man from the prison, an Outsider lookalike was watching him: the same wicked eyes he saw that night in the fire.

She run from it, jumping through the abyss between rocks: no air, no sound, no touch. He couldn’t even feel the rocks under her feet only the fear, her heart beating in nothingness. Shadows of an ancient city flashed beside her: collapsed palaces, streets, the remnants of a civilisation among the echoes of present places.

The monster was following her, appearing before or behind her, talking.

“Won’t you hear me out?” But she just run deeper and deeper into the Void until the monster made stones rose before her cutting of her path. “Stop already dumb woman!”

She turned, backing to the nearest stone towering over her.

“You brought me here.” she hissed.

“Your meddling did, horning your nose into things it has no business to be. The Void” the monster showed around them” creeps into your dreams, poisons them if you peer too much into it. Shows you things no man or woman should ever see.”

“Delilah saw it and got away! She knew what your kind’ve done and I know it too!” she shouted voice drenching with anger, despite backing even further and shielding herself with her hands as the monster came closer. “You have no business asking for attention or mercy!”

“But do you know what  _ they _ ’ve done to us? How many they killed!”

“Who were you to even look up at them?”

“Who the fuck were they to look down at us?

“Our saviors.”

“ _ We _ are our saviors!” the Outsider lookalike shouted grabbing her and she spit to its face.

That won her a toss to the ground only till the thing wiped its face, then got grabbed again at her neck lifted from the ground so that even her toes couldn’t touch stone.

She was trashing, trying to break free.

“You’ll tell nobody about this!” the monster threatened.

She was trying to break free expecting her air to run out or neck to break but nothing happened. There was no air in the Void, no matter, just shadows: she wasn’t really there, it was a dream no matter how real it looked.

A laugh escaped her “You can’t hurt me here.” But then why wasn’t that thing coming after her in real life? They were in the same city, there were more of them. She grinned as she understood. “You don’t know where I am. Delilah’s magic survived and you  _ do not know _ where the fuck I am, do you?”

“Yet.” the thing said with a menacing growl.

“So I just have to find the real you first.”

“Only if I ever let you wake up.”

 

#  *****

 

The Outsider

 

The stillness and the memories of the Void and the afternoon woke him again, the same feeling of being lost, being everywhere at once that he felt previously that day fighting the Envisioned. The soft bedding and the man sleeping on his chest grounded him almost immediately this time though. The sound of the arriving downpour outside and Corvo’s breath calmed him, but didn’t dismiss his concerns.

The night was wonderful, having Corvo with him was new, exciting, calming in so many ways like his presence cleared his head, hushed the voices and visions. Didn’t made him feel more human though, but he was kind of expecting that at this point. The magic, the Envisioned, the memory like visions he experienced that day… He was glad Corvo got the mark again, the whole this time, because after four thousand years he was the only one  _ he w _ anted to get it, and because Corvo will need the magic and maybe the connection too whatever may happen with the Envisioned in the city.

It was a dangerous game he was playing: living blindly, hoping the problems will disappear if he wasn’t caring about them. He could run and never look back, living a life, evading the monsters, killing them one after another with the magic he shouldn’t have anymore. But Corvo was sleeping on his chest now, cuddling him, and he wanted to run no more.

He wanted to stay and was willing to fight. But that also meant the problems must’ve be faced: all of it, everything, who he was, why he was here, what were those memories. Answers to protect Corvo, save this life… their life together.

He was playing with Corvo’s hair, touching his shoulder, kissing his forehead.

“My dearest.”

The man’s finger moved on his chest, caressing the skin. He smiled kissing him again.

“Can’t sleep?” Corvo mumbled.

“There is something that needs to be done.”

“At this instant?” he grumbled.

“I may never do it if I don’t do it now.” To this Corvo lifted his sleepy head. “It’s a... ritual for my memories. You were right; I can’t fight this if I don’t know what I’m fighting against.”

“Don’t like the sound of that.”

“Never said you would. And…” he turned his gaze. Was he really dragging Corvo into this? It wasn’t like before, when he played with him from the outside, different than the times he spent as chosen, this was real and personal.

Corvo didn’t had any of it kissing his chest again. “Mine, remember?”

And wasn’t it the reason he planned to do all of this for? “Yes, and how far will it bring you?”

“Don’t do this now!” Corvo sat up. “We’ll do this, solve it, and that’ll be all. I’m famous from clearing things up.”

He smirked and rolled his eyes, but let it at that. They got up, got dressed and he led Corvo up on the empty corridors back to Delilah’s quarters.

“It’s easier if we don’t have to explain ourselves.” he explained for Corvo’s arched brow.

The only altar left after Delilah’s reign he knew about got destroyed a day before, so he had to make do with what he had. They moved a wooden desk to the middle of the room and he carved his mark and some necessary runes into it with his knife. This wasn’t as fancy as the Void liked, but it would do for him. He would be heard and that made him sick and angry.

“Did you even need the altars?” Corvo asked.

“Not necessarily. At least not the way it was used. I cared little for offerings even less for the disgusting ones aimed to the Void. But the Veil is thick around the world, it made it easier to appear at places where it’s weakened, like at the altars.”

He got ready and stepped back checking his work. Corvo was watching the whalebone knife in his hand cautiously, but didn’t ask.

“The knife you found in the safe” he explained nevertheless “, the one I was sacrificed with was made of the substance of the Void, don’t ask me how they got it… This is just whale, the Void likes those more than humans, who would blame it?” he sighted. “To talk to the Void, you need to make it interested and nothing interests him more than pain and suffering.”

“There must be another way.”

“Yes, but I don’t feel like sacrificing anything today. I’m special, The Void lets me get away with far less than anybody else.” He looked at his palm on the table, laid carefully over the middle of his mark. “And I will heal… You don’t have to watch this” he turned back for a second before stabbed the knife through his palm nailing it to the desk.

Blood filled the carvings and with his only thoughts he managed through the white pain filling him cried to the Void, demanding answers and memories. In the next moment he got the latter.

 

#  *****

 

_ In the past _

 

_ The kid was watching the drawings in the book: the mutilated bodies forming a nest-like structure hands and legs reaching out from it, heads in the middle, weaved around with intestines. There as a writing around it, explaining every detail, but he had to read it so many times already he knew it from head. _

_ A man was watching over him, leaning to the bookshelf at the other side of the table. _

_ “Why are you making him watch this monstrosity?” a woman asked behind him. _

_ “He needs to know what the omens are. He hasn’t fought in the war, but we can’t have those Envisioned use it against him.” _

_ At that he looked up at the man and the woman before him now. They looked strong, beautiful, the ones who fought against the Void and won. _

_ “You can’t forget this, my boy, it’s important, and don’t listen to those damn creatures…If we knew we could have children!” he seemed angry, but the woman hushed her. _

_ “We would’ve created them just the same. It’s this kind of talking that causes trouble.” _

_ “I don’t have to be considerate to the dust!” _

_ “We were dust.” the woman reminded him. _

_ “ _ Were.”

_ As the man looked down at him, he turned back to the book before him. Turned the page absentmindedly, reading now about the sickness the bodies brought. One of the first omens of the Void. Maybe he wasn’t alive to fight it, but was born with some memories about it, impacting his parents so much… A restless ocean comes first, torturing every soul on or in it, then the sickness, then the clouds reach the shore and the Veil opens through them for the Void to devour the living. _

_ The Void always comes through the ocean… but now it was defeated, pushed back, calmed, not leaving anything behind, just the floating city and the victors. _

_ “It’s time.” a third person came and the man and women motioned him to come with them. _

_ They left the huge study ornamented with wood, metal and crystals went to the foyer through the amazing, carved corridors. The others were gathering there under the chandelier on a floor carved with runes, one for everyone: a name and reign: thirty-six, that’s how many survived the war against the Void from all across the world, that’s how many gained power, immortality, that’s how many created the humans stealing the souls back from the Void, building bodies from the dust of the earth. _

_ Thirty-five did the kid lost. But they weren’t gathered together but in groups, hardly talking to each other, their argument about life tearing the thirty-six apart. Only this they had to do together. _

_ The man, who was with him in the study stepped forward, opened the great doors of the citadel and they all went forward out to the floating city. The sun shined, the white, dazzling towers stretched above them, with the flags and ornaments, clouds floating around them, the cliffs floating above the ground ever since the Void touched them were connected with bridges and stairs. The place of the great last battle, the citadel, the stunning, rich floating city, the emblem of the victors, of the victory of the living. _

_ The kid inhaled the home smiling at the sky, and at the others around him touching his shoulder as greeting, protecting him, and he looked to the humans gathered on the cliffs of the palace, on the bridges, stairs around them, above them on the higher cliffs. At this point there already lived many humans on earth, divided just like the victors: the true believers, the envisioned, and those who despised the victors despite everything they had done. _

_ The kid’s gaze met with a man’s from the envisioned and he smiled, the man waved at him and he waved back. _

_ “Look up, son.” a woman nudged him pointing up. _

_ He did and he saw the Void above them, the scar on the Veil and the dark nothing behind it. It was tamed now, nothing to fear about and the feeling of happiness and being home hit him; the moment engraving itself into his heart among the precious memories. _

 

#  *****

The Outsider

 

The pain of the knife being junked out of his hand made him woke up, regain consciousness. He was lying on the ground, Corvo kneeling before him, holding him up, cradling his damaged hand, trying to make the bleeding stop with one hand, knife tossed somewhere.

“You collapsed.”

But he didn’t even know where he was, when, why, what was real and what wasn’t among the countless knew memories he had now. For a moment he thought he is still at the citadel, he is the kid having a dream, only even the air felt amiss. Only Corvo could be recognized at the end of the mark, above him, the familiarity of the connection made him pull the man closer.

“Did you see it?” he asked quietly.

“I did… but what was it?”

“The gods on the earth.” His people, the time he belonged to lost forever. He didn’t felt the tears running on his face just as Corvo embraced him tighter. “My home.”

The floating city eaten up now by the Void, the cliffs with the remnants floating in in there now, in nothingness. Corvo saw them as he was there, he did too, always, through four thousand years, he just couldn’t remember. Couldn’t recognise the demise of his life. The feeling of loss crushed him harder than ever as now he got a peak of what he really lost: the world, the family.

“There was a time before, rich, even richer than now, full with knowledge… ruled by the gods who defeated the Void.”

“What happened to them?”

“I don’t know.” he clinging to his man. “I was one of them, their kid. I was a god, the Envisoned didn’t turn me.”

But he may really did not have a place in this world, his people in the past, his home in the Void, destroyed, a world lost. He stayed, or even he hasn’t, but still alone, drifted away. Could he get it back? Was there a way? Was there a way home, getting them back, restoring time? He felt lost, angry at everything, homesick for a place he only just started to remember. Corvo behind him, cradling, kissing his head kept him together only.

He didn’t have the power and the will to sit up, but he remembered now.

“It’s the Void, Corvo, its omems. It woke up and comes to the Earth.”

“You all’ve stopped it once.”

“They. I wasn’t there and the others are lost… It has eaten up a world before, more than one as far as I know. We can’t stop it alone.”

“Then we won’t fight alone.” Corvo hold him tighter. “Just won’t fight alone.”

 

#  *****

Void

The summoning and the peek into the past haven't got ignored. The Void recognized the calling of one of his precious, turned its attention away from Karnaca and headed to Dunwall through the ocean in the black clouds devouring time and space before it: hungrily, mercilessly.

A few days, that was all they had lefz.

****

 


	4. Shards of a soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third one. A two-part chapter again.

##  _In the past_

_There were gardens atop of the towers of the floating city and around them on the ridges like a child’s play, a column where one had to rotate the parts to reveal the picture. The kid had a toy like that, but now he was drawing figures into the dust._

_The man who was with him in the study the other day stood above him again watching him work. He was the kid’s teacher, one of the victors, who the envisioned called ancients, and the haters demons from the Void. Not like it mattered._

_The kid liked his teacher even if he didn't really understood why was he the only one teaching him. There’ve been no leader among the victors, but this man was one of the few respected by all. He called himself an Exclusionist and the kid identified that with respect. Or rather with the “acceptance of aimlessness” – as his teacher corrected him every time they talked about this. He didn’t know what it meant back then._

_“What are you drawing?” his master asked._

_“Runes?”_

_The teacher crouched beside him. “I didn’t teach you this” he pointed at one of them. “You know it from the Void, don’t you? Are you two talking?”_

_The kid looked up at him funny, then to the scarred Veil above them and laughed._

_“You know it can’t speak. It doesn’t even have a mouth.”_

_“Many things talk, that don’t have mouth, like your instinct, conscience, humanity or heart as the others call it. A child’s heart is easier to move than the adult’s hardened by… resolves. And your heart is gentle.”_

_“You sound like it’s a bad thing.”_

_His teacher contemplated that for a second. “I fear for you and for ourselves. You still don’t know enough, aren’t strong or hardened enough to keep your stand against the world. Especially that I won’t tell you what to do and the others can’t. You’ll choose your own path whatever it may be. There is nothing you must do. There is no must in the world, no rules.”_

_“There are for the humans.”_

_He had already learned about the laws the victors made and the sewer punishments the deviants got. There was a woman a few days before being whipped on the main square for corruption, and lucre. As much as he found that interesting didn’t want to happen to himself. Humans were a whole different thing it seemed and he spent little time with them._

_“Only for the creation. We made the rules to keep order, to not let the dark side of the human race surface again, turn off what the evolution developed and conditioned before. Being the ones to recreate them we should’ve been able, only human nature is fallible, unable to understand beyond survivor and enrichment… and so is ours.” he said sadly. “One can’t teach a rock to swim gonging under with it.”_

_The kid looked up at him, letting the stick go he’d drawn with before._

_“But then why are you keeping them?”_

_“To maintain order. Rules give means. The others say the humans can’t accept aimlessness: that there is nothing in life only what you make, that there is nobody worthy to judge you so you shall make whatever you see fit. Life means nothing, is nothing, only death, calmness and the nothingness is permanent; we have seen it.” The teacher crouched down beside him, searching his face._

_“The Void out there is hollow, deaf, life is an accident and there is no goal to reach. Pointless. Suffering is just what it is, no praise, no compensation, just a whim, and if you got too deep it eats you alive. There is no real obligation to preserve each other; our one strength is to stay alive against the Void.”_

_As the kid didn’t say anything to that, the teacher got more serious. “Tell me, son, does the Void talk to you?”_

_That got him confused, it wasn’t the first time someone asked him that but he didn’t know the answer. He didn’t hear voices or saw visions or anything, he had magic like all the victors and a bond to the Void with it, but he had no idea what else could be out there._

_“No?” It wasn’t the most reassured response but it was enough for his teacher for now and he stood up with a nod._

_“Anyway, I do think rules are pointless. If we are not killing each other due to rules, we failed already. What do you think about that?”_

_He didn’t thought anything being still a kid, even though older, more mature than his age would require growing up with his teacher. Such questions were asked regularly and although he didn’t have to answer he tried to think through most of them._

_“Are we pointless?” The teacher looked at him proudly._

_“We are a result” he said. “, the saviors of life itself, that gives us meaning. Gave. And we are living on the remnant of that decision. We chose life against nothing, but then made people, because we felt alone, broken and assumed we can’t have children of our own.”_

_But here he was now, the child of the gods, the first to born after the victory, and part of the conflict. He was a thorn in the eyes of the Haters and some of the other humans who assumed the victors will kill them in the moment their number rises not needing them anymore._

_The kid experienced very little of this hate being protected, loved and adored by the other victors irrelevant to which group they belonged to._

_“Still our decisions are ours and there is nobody who could account us for anything.” the teacher mused. “Crying responsibility is a weapon in the hands of humans, they have a big mouth being once dust under our feet… Although we have no obligations toward them, toward anything. Not making decisions is a decision just as caring for only our lives.”_

_“The others haven’t told me that.”_

_The teacher smirked. “I am sure you did and will hear very different things among our ranks. Esthel and her followers are living in the present even if they know all the futures. They chose to be blind like the humans helping everyone with the current problems not caring what comes after. The humans adore her but her actions will bring more harm in the end than anyone else from us ever could. And Belial...” the man looked down at the kid. “How far do you see? Can you see Esthel?”_

_The kid closed his eyes and reached out with his mind to the future, searching among the infinite possibilities till he indeed found Esthel with her followers and he saw them healing diseases, growing crops, smoothing the paths, making people thrive and prosper, telling them their futures to live the best lives. He saw people well fed, happy, science and culture prospering… A golden age for a long time, Esthel giving back what the Void and the war destroyed. But he also saw how the help of Esthel benefited one and hurt another: giving one fields from another, giving one riches and making everyone poor in the long run. She gave enough to live, made humans weak and too comfortable, taking away the reason to fight. And he saw the numbers of humans risen, saw them suffocating the planet, saw Esthel to fall in the end fighting for too many, saw the humans rioting, rotting on a dying planet and saw the Void getting bored. It happened in the far future, but there wasn’t an end in this didn’t happen._

_The end of the road runs to death for the whole planet, but if Esthel knew she didn’t care. She thought they owned the humans the lives they wanted, and that’s where the others disagreed._

_He looked for his teacher next not for the first time. He saw the closed doors of the floating city, the people left alone and the age of the gods on Earth thriving only among the walls of the citadel. No help, no harm, no hope, no condemnation, interacting with the humans only when necessary, just as much to entertain the Void. Humans lived a life left alone outside the gates, some crying for them, some turned away in betrayal. The order of the Exclusionists turning their back to the world itself..._

_And then there was Belial, who acted: helped some and destroyed others, spread diseases, killed millions but build cities. Ruled in hate and fear from the humans, but as far as the kid could see he ruled long, longer than any of them, together with the Void. He argues we must observe the futures and choose the most optima – hi teacher told him one day -- But optimal for who? Making compromises just angers everyone. Belial will kill a lot of people for the optimal future, he did already. And even his followers disagree with him about how far he can go._

_There were many futures on Belial’s path thought he couldn’t see._

_“What’s with Belial?” he opened his eyes looking up to the teacher._

_“You saw so much?”_

_The kid shrugged. “I see much, but I don’t understand.”_

_“Belial… is working for the optimal future. Optimal for us, the Void, the humans, but optimal takes away the best from all of us, demands sacrifices we are not willing to make. Belial’s plan calls only hate, conflict and death, he will kill thousands for a future he says is better. But better for who? Who is he to tell what is better? He is the only one who never learned our lesson. Although all of us calls death at some point. Like any of the three future is impossible if the others meddle and ends in disaster if not. Compromise, but in what, you see, what will you give up? Belial would rule with an iron fist that will harm us even more than anything ever could.”_

_That confused him. He loved Belial, all the victors did, there was no grudge among the gods even if they thought differently. It was due to the war they fought together, the deeds and creation binding them together more than blood or love itself ever could. The fidelity for each other made the group like a nest, a calm, protective bubble on the ocean. The kid loved them with all his heart._

_“I can't see all of Belial’s futures.”_

_That got him a hard, pensive stare from the teacher. “Those paths are intertwined with yours and you can’t see your own future.”_

_“But you can?”_

_“Yes.” the teacher ruffled his hair smiling gently. “I will tell you when you are older. For now you only have to know that you are our child, all of ours and we won’t let anything happen to you, my son: not me, not Esthel and not Belial.”_

_The kid smiled standing up sensing the end of the conversation. He wanted to make his teacher play with him, but a sudden headache forced him back to the ground._

_The teacher crouched beside him concerned, hand on the kid’s back._

_“Son, what happened?”_

_“How did you stop the Void?” the kid heard himself asking._

_That confused the teacher. “You know that, I taught you everything.”_

_The headache got worse, he could not see, speak, think, there was nothing left in him just the pain, suffering, like his head blasted slowly to million tiny species._

_“You don’t remember…”_

_But the kids mind gave up and darkness engulfed him._

_“My dear son....”_

 

## The Outsider

 

He woke on the ground, curled up in his own blood, headache overwhelming the pain of the other wounds. A long scar run along his lower arm from wrist to elbow, he felt it throbbing, the blood still flowing. He kept his eyes closed. The pain pulsated through his body but was overwhelmed by the presence of the floating city around him. The feeling of loss choked him and he could hardly breathe.

The garden, the palace, that time, the others, the feeling of the clouds, the flowers, the touches, the love, belonging, safety, happiness, family, a childhood so real… Nothing in the past four thousand year felt real compared to this, li he had been witching from behind a wall, from a mute black box, underwater; but no became free and the shock of the feeling burned and crashed his very core. The citadel was around him, his home, the others, his family, his place and he clung to this feeling with all his power. He wasn't alone there, wasn’t a ghost, a demon, jut a kid and didn’t know this lost innocence, unwoundednes hurts this much till he tasted it on his soul.

A door banged, footsteps run toward him. He felt Corvo, his concern but tried to shut it out. The man crouched next to him with the smell of bandage.

“How many times do you have to do this?”

He ignored the question reaching still for the citadel and the loved ones, kept the feelings as long as he could. Corvo touched him to help, but he shook off the hand not for the first time that evening.

“Have you found anything?”

He found everything, everything it was worth living for: the acceptance, community, love, understanding. He found his memories about thirty-five parents, dinners together, lessons and laughs and touches and embraces and encouragement and sorrow and forgiveness and that touch on the shoulder that tells you you’re not alone whatever may happen, whatever you do. He saw the gods wandering in the world teaching, saw the human cities, played with human children of his age and slept in a bed by a song of a mother. Home, warm, belonging, everything that the Void wasn’t. That ringing emptiness, his hollow body out of dust, alone, not even something, just a shadow that cannot touch, cannot feel, numb as a corps stuck between death and life… alone in a place that doesn’t recognizes life. That fear, horror, insanity surrounding him there, that _nothing_. And he wanted to scream, because there was a citadel once, there was a life, he felt it now, remembered now, his chest ached, but there was a Void, that has been eating him alive from piece to piece for ages and he felt the bite marks, felt the wounds deeper than his heart, deeper than the soul, tainted, cold. _Fucking eaten_. How could he survive at all? Insanity. Madness. And no he was feeling it all.

He would’ve reached for his kind for help, for a touch that understood, but there was no one left. And after four thousand years now he broke.Felt the tears flowing, Corvo before him, trying to calm him, but he shook the hand off again.

“Don’t touch me!” Don’t wake me, don’t pull me away… he couldn’t let go of the past, couldn’t lose it again. Corvo showed him what is real, but now that real scared him, the loss threatened to crush his bones and the small, wounded dying thing in his chest that hurt more than anything could, that screamed in agony of the torturous years in the Void. Reality brought pain and longing, _realizations_ he couldn’t handle. But the man reached after him again. Again and again, forcing him back.

“Darling…”

“No!” he pushed him away standing up. “No…” You can’t touch this, these open wounds you can’t, this fear will bite back. He felt like if he turns away from the citadel he will lose it again, this tiny piece of himself, which he didn’t knew was missing, which tried to run back, tried to cling.

But he opened his eyes at least now standing up, arms around himself shielding. Saw Dunwall, Delilah’s quarters even if he looked only for the past, the citadel, the streets. The floating city never had been on land, only reached out above the ocean far, stunning, high, mighty… now parts of the cliffs were in the Void and the rest formed the islands. Gristol, Serkonos, inhabited only after the golden age, the cliffs bearing only the memories, just like him.

Corvo sat on the ground at the spot he had fallen as he pushed him, sorrow, concern and hurt in his eyes and he turned his gaze. Couldn’t. Couldn’t face that too. Even Corvo wasn’t real.

“Have you found something?”

The Outsider released a shaky breath. “No.” Like an echo. The people in his visions were watching him on the streets, on the stones, familiar faces that made him sick and hurt more, the city around him feeling like an offense.

“The Void is coming.”

“Time doesn’t work like that, Corvo. I can’t choose the time, can’t bend it and can’t just ask. Tried that and failed.”

“The Void will destroy everything.” Corvo reminded him coldly, getting up. “This is important, you can’t just…”

The man swallowed the end of the sentence as the now black eyes looked at him.

“I can’t just what, Corvo?” he stepped closer menacingly, tears not yet dried up from his cheeks. This was important, this was everything. Something shattered with the returning memories and there was nothing left to keep him together.

“We don’t have the time to reminiscent.”

Get over it and do your job. The anger washed over him, cooled his heart and for a moment he felt the demon of the Void in his place.

“You are the one not having time. My family is dead, your kind survived on their ashes! The gods are dead, Corvo, and you are telling the only one left, that he has no time to mourn them because he has to fight the Void for damned humans again!”

Corvo wanted to argue, he saw it on his face, but then he closed his mouth as their eyes met.

“You want me to not care. You want me to shut it out. I did that through four millennia and that demon…!”

“Do you even care, Corvo?”

“Of course I care!” Corvo got up. “But we don’t have the time!”

“Then let humans fight for themself, let the Abbey fight the demons, the outside it hates so much, let them die like the billiards before them, before my kind won! Let them fight, die, gain their magic if they can. _I_ have time. I can go back to the past, back to mine. And humans can do whatever they want.”

“You must fight this! You’re the only one strong enough to do it!”

Must. Damn this world, damn the humans, damn this soul that hurt like a million open wound, damn the cold that drenched his bones, damn the death that kept him in his grip for so long. Damn the bites of the Void that had left no flesh on his figure.

“There is nothing you must do, there is no responsibility. For who? Who would care if the world burns? Who would matter? You? Me? Death is not the worst option, just the permanent and I promise you, at that moment you won’t care.”

“You can’t walk away from this!”

“Can’t I? Then watch me, watch who I am really!” He pushed the thick stone wall of the room showing it aside like nothing, pushing the whole thing against the far wall of the neighboring room destroying every furniture there, shattering them between the two walls but keeping the wall itself together. The stones of the floor and the debris moved, formed a figure, a landscape and only when he realized it started to look like the stones in the Void he turned them to dust with a single thought.

“This is just a playground. A nothing! I’m a demon who never cared about this world, a careless caretaker who will destroy the sandcastles of this joke of an age, joke of a world! I’m the god who doesn’t give a damn.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“No? Then share an example for the contrary, please, just one.” He felt the darkness in his eyes, the hollowness so familiar fighting with something else, like a shield that shattered, like soul starved, tortured, locked up alone in a dark place with the monsters working on him now tried to reach for the light and saw its hand’s been wore out to the bone.

“This is what you loved: a demon that was stoic and cold, like you. You never wanted power, but loved the power in me, loved the cold, loved the distance, loved that you didn’t owed anything to a being like that. That’s what has drawn you to me nothing else, because there was nothing more. But I’m not that demon anymore, Corvo, I’m not far away where I can’t reach the world, there is no Void that kills every thought and emotion in me, there is no coldness that would freeze me, everything burns and if I would decide to take my revenge on the world, you could do nothing.”

He calmed down a little just to feel hollow and dead again, so far away from anyone, everyone. Corvo looked cold, angry and confused. Hurt.

“You told me we will fight this together. What about that? This is your responsibility. We take care of this, everything else can wait.”

He shook his head but didn’t bother with an answer. Something felt deeply wrong, amiss, he felt bad in his skin like it didn’t fit him, like he was a curved line forced into a straight groove. He missed last night but was too hurt and upset to really care or think clear. A million shards dreaded behind a shattering shield.

The reality of the citadel faded around him slowly, flow out through the fingers but he grabbed after it, clung to it, eyes closed again, but Corvo grabbed him.

“I won’t lose you to this!”

He shook the hands away again.

“It isn’t your decision.”

This all was too much, he was dead too long to suppress everything again. The past, the memories were bigger than him, overwhelmed him like waves on the ocean, like the ocean was inside him and choked him at the same time. He couldn’t let it go, not now, not like this, not in any way, not alone, not on his own, not without knowing the whole story, not without closing it down in himself, not without going home, not without understanding. Not without facing of it all, this whole messed up series of events. And he needed Corvo, needed him like he never needed anything in his life.

“I can’t do what you’re asking.” he said turning away.

“Where’re you going?”

“Away.” This was hurting everyone, and he wasn’t even meaning it really.

“You’re not going anywhere!”

“Find me if you can…”

He blinked down to the garden from the window then up to the wall, out to the city.

He couldn’t ask the Void to show him what happened to the others, that request gave no answer, he tried that already, so he asked the second best question: what happened when he died.

 

## The Void

 

It moved slowly, from the depths of the ocean to the clouds. It watched and it hungered, although its slimy beast in Dunwall caused it contentment spreading its many tentacles through the city sucking the blood and life itself from the big city. The others were crazed with the success of their sibling, yapping constantly, breaking free and the Void let them, the craziness to run free.

It arrived to Dunwall pretty quickly through the ocean, fishes and whales fleeing from its way throwing themself rather to the shores than letting it touch them, but nobody was witness in the closed down harbor. It arrived silently, pulled itself out of the water, looked around, its big body like a trick glass twisted mind and reality. It was like water, a puddle after the rain, silent, non-threatening as long as nobody touched it. It crawled through the city.

An old woman was the first to step in it, bringing a small piece with herself that crept up on her leg then waist then shoulders and in front of the door of her house it touched his eyes and ears at last, slipped inside her brain. The woman smirked, there was only the Void left in her mind, a distorted world around her with filth and vermin. Vermin that the Void wanted so the Void would get.

Her family didn’t know what hit them as they were opened up with a kitchen knife bound to a table.

 

## Obadiah

 

His head hurt for a whole day now trying to process what happened.

The pavement was the first thing he recognized that day and the rain falling on him. It must have been what woke him. His head hurt where it was smashed to the pavement and just hurt in general. Or it was the memories, his mind trying to process something not really meant for it.

That wrecked street, like the earth itself moved, that brown-grey monster thing that he never even heard before, nobody in the whole Abbey or nobody in general, not at these part of the world. What was it? Why was it there? And the Outsider? He was sure it was the demon and maybe because he really looked at him for the first time his believes about him shook. The being was terrifying as it moved, fought or just looked with those pitch black eyes like it was hollow, like he was just a shell of something dark inside. His face blank, body human-ish but like dust, like it could turn into… into something no more reminding of a human.

Was he really not merciless? Was he really a force once human? Once alive? He wasn’t against him mindlessly like rest of the Abbey, but now he was questioning himself why. That thing was frightening: not even perceiving the world like something… alive? Normal? Like he wasn’t even there.

But it didn’t kill him. That was the thought working through him all night lying next to his wife. The Outsider wasn’t there for him, or probably for humans in general, but for the monsters the world didn’t know about. Was it a thing? Did the god fought these on a daily basis? Monsters from the Void? Or just…? He had so many questions and so big of a hump on his head.

The possibility that the demon was fighting at their side caused more concern than relief. That thing was _frightening._ Crazy. Alien. He never thought he would meet him, or would face something so… different? Dangerous. If he knew who were fighting when he interfered, he would’ve run away without a second thought. Well, that’s his life.

He said nothing though, not even to his wife. Especially not to his wife – speaking of long, loving marriage. The Abbey wouldn’t understand – not like he did –, but they would fight immediately and mindlessly and a day before he didn’t thought this a good idea.

Today however… Today he was in a district near the harbor hit by a deadly disease. He had a mask with a beak, goggles, gloves, a whole set of protective clothing and was going from house to house investigating the homes and the dead. Several docents, over fifty, seventy… he thought the numbers can’t creep higher, then they did just that. And his head hurt so much.

There were bodies lying at his feet: two kids barely older than his own children, both dead: eyeballs missing, skin and flesh gnawed to the bones at parts, deep abscesses elsewhere under the dried skin, bellies bulged due to the liquefied organs inside. Whatever killed the kids it did it from body part to body part with an alarming slowness. The sickness ate them, like those bugs which put their eggs inside other animals and the larvae gnaw its way out. The torment they went through left its mark on the kids, defaced them. The stink of the bodies and of the house and whole district at this point percolated through his mask. It was the most disgusting thing he ever smelled and it wasn’t the first house he was in that day.

“So?” he asked his subordinate stopping above him far from the bodies on the floor. The dead kids tried to get down probably to their parent but died there alone on their floor where they collapsed. He stood up, left the room, couldn’t take this all anymore, his subordinate fast in his heels. Plague, assassins, revolt and now this… These could’ve been his children.

“So?” he asked again outside voice only slightly trembling.

“They lived here.” His partner held a picture in his hand from one of the walls. ”Parents both worked at the city watch. If they were sick, their bodies are not here.”

This was the case in every house: the children left behind, grownups gone. Did they run leaving the children behind? What kind of parent could do that? Just the thought of abandoning his children made him sick even if they were dying, especially if they were dying, even if they would all die. These kids were suffering and were left behind; he would have strangled these adults with his bare hands. But he didn’t really thought they left or at least not on their own will: a few running away from the sickness is possible, but everyone? In every damn house there were children not one mother or father decided to stay? Everyone couldn’t be a cold hearted psycho even if they faced death. Especially the guards, especially knowing that they were most likely spreading the disease moving.

He sighted leaving the house. “They must be somewhere.” he said looking around. The other Overseers were taking notes around the house, closing down the district, burning the bodies already checked.

“You should fetch a team and start looking for them, we can’t let them spread it. And talk to the guard captain ask him what… what the?” There were purple flames dancing over the rooftops in the old city not far enough from them. Like a living wall, like real fire sinister and mesmerizing. He recognized this kind of purple though never saw it with his own eyes.

“Overseer Pipe-Wolferstan?” the concerned Overseer touched his arm. He didn’t see it – Obadiah realized. That ring of magic was only visible for him… and who else?

“Get me the Lord Protector!”

“Wh…?”

“Just do as I asked, please! Tell him to come immediately to the Holger square, I will be there. Tell him it’s urgent and whatever he is doing this can’t wait!”

The Overseer looked up at him confused, but run to do his job after a stern glance. He looked back to the magic fire ring for a moment, making sure nobody else saw it, gave order to his other men and left to the Holger as fast as he could.

 

## Corvo

 

He was watching the destruction left behind by the god: the remnants of the two rooms, the wall pushed to the side, the wreckage of furniture. He could hardly believe it, this all situation, how the Outsider behaved, how he… threw a tantrum. Will this be always the case when he gets upset? Will he go rampage, destroying the city and life of others around him? Has he really no consideration? Did he really see the world around him like a toy? Worthless? Not glorious and worthy enough to be saved, to be worthy to care about?

He didn't say anything the previous day when he destroyed a street, he was upset, was attacked and all, but now… He knew he is upset, who wouldn’t be, he knew he is angry, confused, probably afraid and feels alone, he knew all this, he wasn’t stupid or completely without empathy, but this was not the time to care about all that. They had responsibilities. Really, he didn't have to be alone, and should act the mature adult he is and do his damn job stopping the threat instead of losing his mind in the worst time.

The god should’ve buried it all in himself till the time was right, like he did so many times. Not this, not leaving in the middle of a problem, making just a bigger mess around them.

What he said about not giving a damn, going home, leaving this age to rot made him uneasy. Would he really? The man he thought he knew would really do that? Would the man from the past two days do that? He remembered the Outsider watching the water a day before, remembered his eyes as he watched the roses, the clouds, breathed in the air… And now he was angry, broken and confused. The god may only needed time, but they didn’t had any, there was no time for a break, no time to care about those damn feelings.

He was left there in the room gnawed by his responsibilities and anger. The doom of fate hanged above them, getting ever closer with every passing second unstoppably and the Outsider left him there to fight alone for her daughter, the empire and against the Void. Where was this fair, why couldn’t he…? There was a threat he needed a solution, he was a solution, like always. That was his job, to save everybody.

He felt the emotions gathering again at the other side of the mark but he shut it out. It wasn’t petty revenge but the decision to care only for the problem – or at least that’s what he told himself. But still, he couldn’t fight this fight alone, he needed at least Obadiah and some scholars or witches who’ve studied the Void before.

He was heading down the stairs when he met Emily in the ring of her maids. They greeted each other, but his daughter stopped him as he would go on with his job.

“I need to talk to you, Lord Protector.” Emily motioned him to follow her to her quarters. The maids were left outside, he was sat down to one of the fancy armchairs.

“What can I do for you?”

Emily’s hard gaze searched him for minutes before she spoke.

“Father… what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, yes” Emily folded her arms sternly looking exactly like Jessamine did. “, you’re right, I could mean the closed harbor, the new sickness spreading in the lower districts and that whatever that happened in the old town. But we will talk about that later. Now please tell me why you look like a kicked puppy!”

Did he? Maybe. But he usually didn’t look so outstandingly good, and the least of his worries was how he looked like at the moment. Disappointment, concern and impatience were the only thing on his mind, the nerve that he can’t do his job although the countdown to the arrival of the Void couldn’t be hold back for a minute.

“Is everything all right?” Emily insisted.

“It is.”

“Where is the Outsider?”

It wasn’t like he really expected Emily not to recognize the man. Now he felt a little remorse that he still hasn't introduced them to each other, especially after last night. If his life would’ve been different now they would spend lunch together, he would hold his hand, kiss him, hug him; they would be talking about how to go about this relationship thing together.

Just thinking about it and last night made his heart ache. Last night… last night was everything and he wondered whether his lover - cause that didn’t change, right? He hasn’t lost him just yet - would come home that night, or ever.

“Away.”

“Why?”

“He needed to clear his head.”

“Did you two have a fight?”

It wasn’t like he expected Emily to not notice the two of them together. As much as he was discreet about his on-goings in the palace, if somebody, Emily would know the signs of an affair. It wasn’t the right time though.

“Kind of. But excuse me, her Majesty“ he apologized standing up “I’ve some business to attend to.”

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything later today, but first I need to ask some questions elsewhere.”

“Is the Outsider working with you?”

“I have no idea what that idiot’s doing.” he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Emily cocked an eyebrow disapprovingly. She was the perfect mixture of the best in her parents.

“Let me tell you what I understand from the situation! He took you as his chosen after mom died, you pined after him for a decade after he left, then he helped you when Delilah attacked and left again just to come back a few week later as human. He came to you first thing, you are or will be together in a few days, but this ‘turning into human thing’ strains the Outsider and you as the cold man you are, are really messing up the whole thing as we speak.”

Credit must be given where credit was due, this was one of the complete parts of the story.

“It’s not this easy.”

“Then explain, please! It concerns me as Empress or as your daughter, either way I want to know!”

She was right of course, she was the Empress after all, his daughter, and what was coming wasn’t a walk in the park, wasn’t just a revolt or a crazy relative. She needed to know about it to be able to prepare for it, doesn’t matter how he wanted to protect her. So he reluctantly told it all: starting with the aftermath of the revolt, the bodies at the harbor, the sickness, and then told her what the Outsider said about the omens of the Void. He talked about the Abbey prison that was burned down by the Envisioned, the Outsider’s fight with one of them and the missing memories, the sacrifices, the nearing Void and about their dissent an hour before.

It surprised him how hard it was to talk about the personal parts and how vulnerable he felt even before his own daughter.

A long pause followed as Emily was thinking through what’s been said. When she looked up again her eyes were filled with determination.

“You’re fired, father.”

 “What?” A gun aimed to him wouldn’t have surprised him this much. “Did you hear what I said just now?”

“Yes, and that’s why I insist what I said.”

“But who would…?”

“Meagan.”

“But Meagan is…”

“Lady Protector, yes. It’s decided.”

He was so stunned couldn’t even protest it at this point.

“You are my father, my only family, you continue living here with me in the palace with all your guests, but the fate of the Empire doesn't concern you anymore more than the next citizen and the Empress’s fate more than a daughter concerns a father.”

“Why?” he managed.

“You made a good job, father, but it’s enough. Meagan will take care of the sickness, she will fight the Abbey, go after the politicians and aristocrats and you will take care of our god, me and yourself.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that we don’t have much time before the Void eats this place. We should be worry about that.”

“Can you stop it, father?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“Alone you won’t. Without the Outsider we have no chance to defeat it. If _he_ can’t figure it out what the elders did, we won’t and you know it.”

“He is in too deep in his dreams, pushes me away when I try to help.”

“Did you ask him just once how he feels? Did you ask him to talk about it? Speaking these things out loud helps the mind, makes you think it through more clearly. Care, patience and listening usually do the trick.”

He knew without recollection that he didn’t ask. Because they didn’t have the time… and because he was afraid of the answer, afraid of the things they could find out about his man, about that age. If the Outsider would’ve talked about it, he would’ve seen the longing in his eyes, how he yearns to go home and how everything he could give could never be enough compared to his life before. This knowledge could and would destroy everything they just started to have and although it was inescapable to dive into the past for information he wished greatly for him to burry everything else deep without a thought. But the Outsider couldn’t do that, the knowledge was eating him alive and the Void was coming.

“You’re doing the exact same thing you did with mom.” Emily said gently. “I haven’t ever had the slightest doubt you loved mother. And she loved you with all her heart. But I know how you were with me and I remember what she told me sometimes about you being hard to be close to. You’re a man whose eyes are only on the issues of the empire. You work all day and night for your family, for your country to keep it together, keep the same, composed and peaceful. You were there for mother physically in her every problem, but never once were there more than that, not really. You cared for her but hardly listened. I know this because you were the same with me.”

Emily put her hand on his on the top of the table between them.

“It’s not a reproach and I don’t blame you. You’re Lord Protector and that’s what a protector does: keeps us safe, keeps his back to any punch that comes in our way. You couldn’t really show your feeling in the court; it would’ve caused a scandal. The things happening around us occupied you so much you haven’t had time for feelings, you buried them deep down and expected mother to do the same, be professional nothing else. You expected me to do the same but I will have none of that, father.”

Emily tightened her hold on his hand.

“I won’t order you to not to care about our safety anymore, I’m no fool, but this city and the empire are your responsibility no more. You were bound by your title long enough and I want you to live free, love free, be able to care for yourself and only for the ones you love.”

He was speechless for minutes staring at their hands on the table, thinking back to Jessamine, to the young Emily, how he did the most of he could for both of them, but never really tried to open up. Never really knew or cared for the emotion. He could fight anything but the emotions of others. Or his own.

“What if I don’t know how?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, he’ll help.”

He doubted that and didn’t. The Outsider most definitely would’ve drawn him out of his shell; he was doing that from day one, but in the state the god was now in he was more of a threat than anything else. He needed to get him back, needed to mend this, but didn’t have the time. Days. They had days.

“What if I won’t be enough?”

He was the worst in soul mending.

“I saw you in the garden yesterday; he looks at you as if you hang the moon.” Emily sat back. “You can process most things alone and close everything deep inside, but most of us can’t. You’re lucky you met somebody who sees literally into your head and knows you, knows what to say, when to touch, how to help. But you can't do that, so you’ll have to ask and listen.”

Actually, he could do that, that’s what the mark was for. He could reach out and feel, he could know. He could’ve known how the Outsider felt, how he could help, what's working inside him, but he got frightened of the power of emotions at the other and of the mark; like they could wash away him too, like they could shatter the restrained man he was. And not just him. That anger was dangerous, the homesickness, solitude… sad, confused and powerful was a dangerous trio, one that could destroy the whole world given the chance.

As if to verify jut that, a servant announced Obadiah’s messenger. He looked up at Emily who rolled her eyes.

“Go, but what I said still stands, we will work out the details when you come back!”

 

##  _In the past_

_The kid was standing before Belial, a bit older, more serious with the other god’s hands on his shoulder. The older one was bend down to him, looking into his eyes lovingly, but tears and sorrow edged his face._

_“My dear son…” the hands tightened their hold on the kid’s shoulder. He felt the weight of the moment, of the words, of the past, the knowledge. His soul shook and his hands were shaking. Belial was on the edge of crying. “I can’t save you.”_

_Someone was banging the door outside._

_“Give the child back, Belial! Let him go for the sake of life, he is ours! Let! Him. Go!” His teacher, almost hysterical, but the kid knew he can’t come in._

_“Belial I kill you, give my son back!” Esthel. The others were arguing loudly outside, threatening Belial or supporting him. It was about his life - or death rather - and he was terrified so deeply he couldn't even move._

_Most of his family was fighting for him but that fight and pain was in vein. He felt it, the outlook of the future cut deeper than any tear; cry or begging ever could dull it._

_He feared for the others._

_“What will happen?” he managed to ask._

_“I don’t know.” Belial answered. But he did, they all did: Belial will throw him out and the humans will kill him. The Envisioned were howling for the blood of the gods together with the Haters, they tried to burn the citadel, kill the gods, get the kid: the blood and the soul._

_He was too frightened and desperate to touch Belial, panic making it harder to breath though he didn’t even know what death really meant. He must have been immortal._

_“It’s for the optimal future, the best for the most.” The man tried to convince them both. There were gods banging the doors and a mob outside the palace trying to burn and destroy it._

_Just days ago they were standing on a field: Belial, his teacher, most of the thirty-six, hoards of humans before them, waiting worriedly. Most of them knew what will happen but Belial's magic tranquilized them, only the eyes told tales about the horror inside._

_“You are a monster, always were.” His teacher said to Belial but didn’t stop him. “Isn’t it enough? Can’t you stop already?”_

_“And we go back to the Palace? Close the door, Iorel?”_

_“What you do is not good for anyone, doesn’t help anyone, you just murder and torture, like the Void.”_

_At that Belial looked down to the kid, but Iorel steppes between them. “You don’t look at my son like that.”_

_“Our son.”_

_“I won’t let him grow up a monster.” He touched the kid shoulder behind his back, who pressed himself to the elder hiding like this way the eyes and the pain of the humans before them couldn’t reach him, but it touched his very soul nevertheless._

_“Like me? I’m no monster, I’m the only one bearing the consequences! The only one not a chickenshit coward!” he shouted, but calmed a bit right after. “If I don’t do this now, all the other things I did was in vain.”_

_“The murders.”_

_“I’m building a future.”_

_“For who?”_

_Belial dropped his gaze. “You won’t understand.”_

_“No, I won’t. And won’t let our child take any part in this.”_

_Belial was weighting this. “We should know if he can.”_

_Kill thousands, please the Void, make decisions, make a future. He had to decide in a young age and he decided not to act, has chosen the way of hi teacher. He stayed behind Iorel pressing his forehead to his back shaking._

_“It’s all on me again, right Iorel?” Belial asked last before turning back to the crowd. “But at least you came.”_

_The kid felt the panic and terror rising among the people, heard the cries not muffled anymore, felt the attention of the Void, the excitement. Euphoria. He wanted to puke, run, not even looking back, but he couldn’t like the stones itself were holding him. And he was watching: men, women, children on the field, not killed to please the Void, but for Belial’s plans. Only the torture was for the nothingness around them. The people cried and screamed, tried to fight, tried to run, for a life they wanted, for the life they were robbed, from the pain Belial’s magic caused dissecting them slowly from the feet to make it last longer, make it more agonizing, turning them back to dust out which they were formed from inch to inch, making them watch, making them listen._

_And the people didn’t understand the whys: why this happened, why the gods thought this necessary, why did this happen to them. They haven’t understood magic, the Void around them, the cruelty of life. They never did. They couldn’t. But he could. As the black dust of thousands of humans covered the field, flew with the wind, covered them ankle deep, he understood. Through the dread and anger, through the countless souls eaten up by the Void he did, and his eyes met with Belial: fear, sorrow and anger radiating from the kid._

_Belial looked back at him, like at that last time: with a sorrow only a parent can feel who is losing a child._

_“I can’t save you, son, but I can protect you.” Belial put his palm onto the kids chest at that last day. “I can take away the pain. What’s not there cannot shatter. You won’t feel it hurting, won’t feel when…”_

_The man pulled the kid to a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry; I wish we don’t have to… That I could… You shine too bright to survive.”_

_The kids felt Belial’s sorrow deep in his soul and felt his own too, then he felt it disappear not leaving anything else just that emptiness, hollowness that was him from that on. He felt himself turning into a puppet with a brain, a keen mind with no emotions, no love, no happiness, no sorrow, no anger, just a mind, just a pair of eyes unable to feel, unable to care; cold as the Void, indifferent like the stones keeping the city afloat – without a soul._

_He looked at Belial and didn’t feel anything, heard the shouts of his family and he wasn’t moved, saw the horde outside with the fire and didn’t found anger. The expression on his face scared Belial._

_“When you get there… it will take your memories away about being alive. Don’t ask questions, don’t wake! I will tell them you won’t. Promise me! Only the dead survive…”_

_“Just do it already!” His voice sounded cold, and the older god flinched._

_Belial brought him to the window to toss him to the horde, the humans, the Haters. The kid was hanging in the air; hold by the wrists, the older god not crying anymore, the crowd rumbling beneath. And a second turned into a minute then longer._

_“I can’t…” he heard Belial and in the next moment he was standing in the far side of the floating city, at the edge of rocks looking back at the sparkling white walls emotionless. He saw the mob and saw the flames, the bright, white walls of the city turning gray and red. There as emptiness where his emotions and soul used to be, there was a silent echo of a cry of a heart breaking then it faded, the shield obstructing everything that was him, that was human or alive worked, didn’t protect the kid from the scars only from feeling them and in that moment watching the citadel and the destruction he forgot why this all was so important to begin with._

_Years passed him living on the streets, doing what he had to to eat, without concern or remorse: he was only a body and the others’ been too. Some dust mattered nothing. The shield was working great and he was alone, looked for but not recognized without a soul for a long time. The Envisioned and the Hater thought he is still in the Citadel, behind closed doors that never opened up again, never revealed the gods again. They retreated from the world, not one from the thirty-five looked for him, not even his teacher._

_The True Believers tried to protect the citadel fighting to last blood for their gods, for what they believed in. He saw they blood and cries, saw them getting massacred on the streets of the floating city. The humans were left alone and they behaved as such, like monsters, like there never were any rule, any peace, any future._

_It has been years spent in the deepest filth till somebody found him and brought him to the Envisioned. The kid couldn’t care, couldn’t fear, couldn’t beg without a soul and he got tortured as preparation and then he got sacrificed. His family didn’t come for him and he died alone with his last glance to a world burning, with everything the gods have been working for falling, with the faithful dying, his home tainted with blood and fire, his family away, dead maybe, backs turned to him._

_The world of the living should have been different than the Void, but it was anything but._

_The death wiped out the memories and cracked the shield protecting the soul of the last god trapped in the Void but hasn’t shattered. He became a being without conscience, without emotions and concerns, without anything humane; cold as the rock he was trapped in - as he was intended. And still, those shards of the soul inside the crack wer_ e working, looking for something, praying for something, for a sign that it was worth it.

 

## The Outsider

 

The memories choked him, he saw himself in the Void, the pair of black eyes on the face of a hollow ghost. Saw the nothing, the Void in those eyes and he screamed, that couldn’t be him, that thing, that demon couldn’t be alive. It was dead, just the eyes, scarred with the pain it couldn’t feel then, but he felt now.

His family was gone, his home burning, corpses on the streets, the tentacles of the Void feeding from them, a dead floating city interwoven with the memories of brighter times. Sorrow and happiness, hope and hopelessness and that thing in the Void was watching him. The cold demon the humans called him, the same humans who sacrificed a child and killed thousand. He looked himself in the eye and now felt how different he became, felt the human against the demon, felt the heart against the hollowness and his awakening soul against the dead. The demon moved toward him as he screamed from all the pain and memory catching up to him, all the scars hurting that he got over the years, everything that the humans did to his body, did to his mind, all that the Void did, all the bite mark, all the flesh missing, all the wounds never healing again on a soul… The memories were killing him, the soul too much, the pain too much, the demon before him too much with the dark eyes hiding only the Void inside. How fragile was he now, how weak, how alive compared to that. The Void will eat every tiny bit of him if it finds him again.

And the demon was just standing there, watching the world, like shadows at the other side of the Veil, around them. The black eyes, which he felt those on himself too, the lack of life, the lack of soul, the bond of the Void. No other god had it, no other had to bear what he had, the never breaking chains.

He wanted to wake up, grab the stone around him, grab Corvo, grab the life, something living, beating; he was suffocating, fighting desperately against the black eyes, with the memory of the demon. Only his anger was greater than this fear, greater than himself and he couldn’t wake whatever he did.

His eyes opened to a room: papered walls, old furniture. Still black eyes, still hollow, chained, still not there, the vision of the Void surrounding him, unable to breath not alive enough to need it. Just a ghost again, in between realities.

He saw the form from the edge of his vision and his magic busted, tossing the walls, blasting the space itself around him with purple flame. The walls and the debris of the furniture rose, floated, the magic crushing and cracking everything to dust. Like the Void with the floating rocks, part of the city, like the Void itself punched a hole into it draining air, draining life if he wanted. His form was floating with the remnants, the five bodies of the Envisioned pressed to the remaining patch of walls, flat to the stone so hard they couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe just whimper under the force clenching around their throats too.

“You thought I wouldn’t wake?” his voice sounded strained, but cold, the purple magic flow around them and the floating rocks like streams in the ocean. “You thought, didn’t you.”

He crashed the bones in the legs of the Envisioned, not letting them cry out from the press on the chests.

“You will suffer in silence, like I had to. For years. I’m not running anywhere.” Other bones broke then others, tearing the flesh as they bended out of the flesh. The Envisioned haven’t had any blood to bleed. The magic swirled faster, the place touched by it broadened, walls ripped as they elevated, the dust cried in fear, the Void watched, he felt euphoria.

“Please…” one of the Envisioned whined.

“Please? That makes it different, doesn’t it?” ribs clashed breaking the chest, punctuating the heart, penetrating the wall behind not leaving anything just torn flesh and a crying monster denied of death just yet. “You came after me, after what’s mine, you killed me and destroyed everything I had, the very world we lived in.”

He felt the soulless black eyes; the former emptiness inside his chest that now a soul filled burning enough to be unable to bleed. Flames and cold, the past and a future, dreams inside the Void, a whirl around himself, most of the memories of his actual life. Another bone broke.

“We made a deal!” cried an Envisioned. “With Belial, but he… he didn’t…”

“Sacrificed his son at the end? That’s what you want to say? That’s what it is really all about? That Belial saved me? Had a heart? Awful. Scandalous. Although you did have me in the end, got your little sacrifice to the Void and all, made sure the others won’t come for me. What did you do to them?”

He got no answer and the magic darkened around them, the press on the throats and the heads got harder.

“You know, I remember what you did to me. Do you? That pain, the music in the cage made me feel like my head would shatter.” A head of one of the envisioned burst from the pressure. “So what happened to my family?”

“We don’t know, they never showed up again and we couldn’t get in the citadel!” The shadows of the memories danced in the flowing magic, the stone and debris swirled in the air, forming and falling apart again and again.

“And so you massacred the Believers, tainted my home, for what?”

“Magic” one of the Envisioned groaned.

He watched them: the twisted bodies, faces contorted in pain, the silhouettes deformed by his magic going wild with his death, kept alive by his curse fighting for his life.

“You wanted power…” His magic pulsated around them; he looked up and saw the past, the stones of the Void, the rush of time, heard the voices, felt the touches, the stone under his feet, a sun above him; the smell of the air of another time. Somewhere deep down he always knew it was all the reason, it always was: for the Abbey, for the witches, for the rulers of the Empires, for his chosen in the end and only one… On the ground, looking up to him broken. Power, might. He wanted to banish his magic so far away, cut it out, cut the Void out under his skin.

“So you wanted something not meant for you. So you massacred, destroyed and killed my kind, killed me for magic.” He searched them. “Of course you did… So just tell me something: where is the magic?” The force crashed again. “Where is the magic you damn creatures?!”

“Here” said a man crawling from his cover on the remnants of the floor. He played brave but was shaking.

He descended to the man, the walls, magic, and the Envisioned pushed to them descended with him. The man trembled, fell to the knees before him, face to the ground. He recognized him as one of his attacker from the other day, but looked further to the past, to the future and the magic became clearer around the man.

“Uriah Betteridge, a witch, a self-proclaimed leader, an ambitious man, all his wishes are to get further in life, higher, using magic as mean, a tool. You threw curses, read minds, trick your opponents. You think this is magic? You think this is anything like magic?”

Just for the smallest move of his finger the world turned in purple flame again, reality itself turning around them, time and space flowing through his fingers, the city changing, the stones taking the form of living creatures holing and flying, stone kids singing. Just a playground, the whole world is a sandbox for a god, but all he wanted was freedom.

“You witches were so full of yourself, thinking you are better, more than the other just because you can cut open a rat. You were so disgusting, and so proud of that. Magic is from the Void, magic is from the gods, do you know, do you want to know? It’s a prize meant only for the victor who defeated the Void, not for the humans, not for the one not knowing what responsibility is. The hole life of my kind circled around what we can and cannot do with magic, the responsibilities for this world for your kind: act or not, when to act, what to tell, let you live or be there, rule or let go, help or let human help themself. Care or not to care… But we all cared in the end, everybody on one’s own way. And humans use power without consideration, you too, as a tool for your progress. There is no power meant for your kind.”

“But it’s here” Uriah argued face strictly toward the floor, watching the swirling magic only from the corner of his eye skin white from fear, still trying, always trying. That moved something in him. “We use it, cause we can, magic is part of the world now, it’s ours too.”

He descended to the floor in front of the man and Uriah feared a blow, a stuck of magic, but he was only watching, bold bravery reminding him of Corvo. This man was young, strong, fighting only for himself, what he thought he deserved making sure he doesn’t cause too much damage on the process for others.

“Magic is not part of the world Uriah, it’s part of the Void which is the enemy and opposite of anything alive. The power you and the witches are using has nothing to do with magic. You never had magic. You haven’t told them that, did you?” he looked up to the Envisioned still pressed painfully to the walls ebbing anger arisen again. The Envisioned cried out in pain, the magic darkened threateningly, but Uriah called out to him.

“Please don’t!” He looked down at him. “My friends are in here.”

“Your subordinates, you mean.”

“Please my god!”

The bizarre irony of the situation made him laugh a joyless little thing. “There will be no harm on the witches.”

“These men saved our lives at the gallows, promised our magic back.”

He looked up at the Envisioned again. “They make the most irresponsible promises.” He looked back at Uriah. “And you don’t even know what you are wishing back.”

“Then show me! You asked if I want to know. I do. Please!”

He searched his face for a long time. “One of the gods of the old times was granting wishes to the people. If they really wanted something Esthel would help: children, wealth, love, knowledge… Esthel fell because humans don’t even know what’s good for them. They asked for the most dangerous and painful things but still, Esthel granted them, she believed she was doing good. Some of the humans asked for knowledge of the Void, wanted to see it, were interested or just couldn’t believe otherwise. So Esthel brought them before the Void and it ate them alive, that’s what it does, that’s what it is. And even if they survived, they never got free from the Touch of the Void.”

Just like him, he realized, it will stay with him, follow him wherever he goes even if they defeat it again somehow.

“I won’t bring you to the Void, but even the knowledge about it is dangerous, wrecks the mind, wrecks reality, never again will be anything the same. But again, knowing more than anybody else and using this knowledge is your thing, so chose Uriah as long as you can!”

He felt merciless, he knew he was, decided to be. The cold in his heart, the disinterest in his mind made him cruel. The Touch of the Void, the lack of a soul, the want to see this man fight, want to see him know, just to gain a little satisfaction, just to be a little like Esthel, to be alike them, feel them close again just for a second.

“I want to know.”

“So you might.”

He touched his forehead and showed him the magic of the witches: the men and women kneeling before the altars, giving oblations: blood and pain, and showed him the Void reaching out to them as an answer for these small thing, showed him the Void biting into them, clinging like a parasite sucking their soul away with its songs like tentacles that bite, like ropes that hang people, like leeches that never come off. The witches caused chaos, death, panic and misery so the Void gave them some fracture of magic to cause more, but stayed with them clinging with ever more song, ever more mouth, sucking more, wanting more, driving the witches further: greater oblations, more blood, more pain, pushing them to self-harm: branding, mutilation, suicide, murder spree… no witch lived a long, happy life even if the disruption of their mind weren’t visible.. If they started there was no turning back and most of them ended in the Abbey’s cellars. Music boxes helped for a few minutes but only made the Void angrier on the long run, clinging tighter, urging the witches to go insane faster.

He knew about this, saw all of it from the Void from the beginning, but seeing and feeling how Uriah reacted made his heart ache, made him remember that there was a time he loved them: people, not just Corvo. It made him remember to a kid who adored life and who cared deeply for others. And he wanted this – he realized. Whatever happened to that kid, he said yes to it for the sake of everybody else around him.

Uriah was shaking trying to brush off the Void, getting free, shouting disgustedly for help, apologizing, begging, shocked and shaken to the core. He took his face into his hands, made him close his eyes with his thumbs.

“It’s not on you anymore, Uriah.” he said quietly, reassuringly, calming the man’s mind in the process, dulling the images, the emotions to make it bearable, not taking away the knowledge, only the details, turning it alike a dream, something the man could live with. He was stubborn like Corvo, making his work harder. “The Void can’t touch you now, the magic of the witches is gone and the Void is away.”

Because he was free, the rivet between the Void and the living world was gone, the two sides separated completely, the Void couldn’t use him to reach into this world. So it woke up. The Void rampaged because he was away, took away its food and connections. It was his fault and the realization turned him sick. He wanted to ask the Envisioned, but wasn’t able. Deep down he knew it was the truth and wished so much Corvo to be there.  

“That was your big plan, making me a passageway for the Void…?” he looked up to the monsters with all the broken bones. “The heroes of the people, the Envisioned revolting against the gods itself to give power to the masses. Did it worth it? Is this the world you wanted?”

“We didn’t know” said one of the Envisioned with honest dismay now that the pressure lessened. “Belial said it’ll work but…” The Envisioned looked at each other until one of them gathered enough courage to admit it. “The sacrifice was never completed. As we… worked, the Haters turned against us, deemed magic too dangerous for man, they collapsed the building upon us and we were stuck till the miners found us four thousand years later. We never saw the outer world or the Void, the cultist told us about magic and we thought…”

It worked. But it never did, they all failed, everybody without exception: he, Belial, the Envisioned, the Haters, the gods, the Believers. Plan to plan, failure to failure and now they were here punishing each other. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, felt his feelings calming, his mind clearing, still a ghost, somewhere in space and time, in a dream, the visions and the blood loss drove him crazy it seemed, but he started to feel real at least with real concern, real emotion, real love, real fear. He dug till he got his soul back: a soul full with scars, wounds and pain, but a soul that could get better. And all this madness somehow started to make sense.

It was the plan all along. A plan that failed miserably. He said yes to leaving, yes to losing, but the Envisioned hadn’t known that. Why?

The man moved under his hands.

“You say it’s gone but I felt the Void coming.” Uriah whispered still shaken but calmer now looking up directly at him.

There was a time he cared and he loved, before Belial took everything from him to save his soul as much as he could in the Void. A series of unfortunate events, the decisions of single souls leading the grand plan astray. He went there to fight and that ill became the first thing he lost. Corvo was right at least in that.

“I know. It will come and we will fight. You brag about being a fighter and a leader, now you can fight the real thing. And you won’t fight alone. It was defeated once, it can be defeated again. I have a plan.”

The determination and level-headedness coming with the realization, what he had to do, was the last push and he woke at last in his own body, powers settled, wandering mind finding the real present with the feel of stone under him and the smell of blood.

He felt weak lying there, pushed to the limits, the body he used lost too much blood, the soul inside had to bear too much. Eyes closed, he tried to move, reality clear around him for now like the chilliest, sharpest morning: the more he remembered the clearer his mind felt, the more real, actually present he felt. Part of this world now: stone under him, sky above, smoke in the air, the soul inside his chest, the beating of his heart.

The Void destroyed a world, killed his too somehow and was here again. The people were in the past, but he couldn’t go anywhere with the Void looming over. He was the last god, that one that’s grown up in the Void, the one that learned from the others and survived when a whole age disappeared.

With much effort he stood up leaning heavily onto the walls of the house. He was somewhere in the upper district in a building whose owners were killed in the revolt. Thick dust covered everything except the spot where he’s been lying and where the blood turned the ground black.

He needed to go back to the palace talk to Corvo, apologize… He needed answers but didn’t have more blood to bleed, was too weak to fight again, the memories and the visions taking every last energy. And despite anything he learned he still didn’t know enough.

A door opened in the other room with a creak. He wished it desperately to be Corvo, wondered if the man would look for him at all after their fight, but it turned out to be a woman with missing arm and nose.

“Master” the women fell to her knees the moment she saw him voice trembling with devotion. “I saw you from the Void fighting those monsters.”

Sensing his confusion she added.

“I was stuck in a dream, one of those things kept me there but you killed it. I followed the magic, had to find you.”

He stepped closer to the woman on the ground, searching her, feeling through the memories of her life, the prison, the time spent inside the Void if only in a dream. It did things to the mind, even his chosen were called there only for minutes. The things this woman did for her beliefs, how much she adored this life, the world around her, the magic that he thought binds humans to it, complements them. He put his hand on the woman’s head.

“Adeline.” The woman looked up tears in her eyes.

“Master. I wished to meet you for so long. There is something I need to show you.”

He knew, knew the moment he looked at her and searched her mind. Never thought Delilah would be the one who has the answers.

They left the house together stopping only for a minute laying eyes on the destruction his magic caused in the old city.

The Void would’ve been proud.


	5. Twin-bladed knife

## Corvo

 

There was only the two of them arriving to the ruins that were a few-house block just an hour ago. Obadiah waited for him at the Holger square, but the flames he talked about were not visible anymore the time he arrived. The overseer described them outsider-purple and that made him anxious. What has he done?

This. He has done this damn thing where he wrecked a part of the city again.

They were making their way through the debris, the aftermath of powerful magic still hovering above the place. There were remnants of walls only a few meters high around them compared to the three-storey houses here before: not one piece of furniture intact, not one piece of stone in the walls that hasn’t got moved, not even the ground left unscathed. Even the bigger wall-pieces still standing wobbled cause there was nothing left between the stone to keep them together.

The Outsider raged here, moved and destroyed everything. They stood ankle deep in grey dust among the once formed then fallen apart animated creature. This all looked like a place was lifted, shaken like a snowball then just dropped to collapse in himself.

“It looked like this all happened in a bubble from the outside. The flames surrounded the place; whatever happened only happened in the inside and was hidden from the sight of… Well, I don’t know why I could see it but the others couldn’t.”

They haven’t called for backup, this whole Outsider thing was still a secret and he mused about how long they will be able to keep it like that. This was the worst thing he could do and he as so angry, it burned.

“Maybe because you saw his magic before?”

Obadiah thought it through then shrugged. “Maybe…” he looked at him sharply. “You were the one sleepdarting me, weren’t you?”

“I couldn’t let you shoot him.”

“He would’ve survived it.”

“Probably, but would you?”

Obadiah shook his head sighting. “That’s fair, I guess…” he looked around. “That thing at harbor…” Whatever was on his mind about the Outsider he kept it to himself. “Are you sure it was him?”

He just nodded, has recognized the magic, the patterns in the stone, he felt the Outsider’s lingering presence. This was bad. The god left angry but to do this… Wrecking a room in the palace is one thing, destroying a whole block is just crazy. Too great of a power combined with an unstable mind. Like with Delilah. And that woman was now dead – he killed her. The thought scared him and turned his stomach.

“What was this place before?”

“Simple dwelling houses. Three. All of them abandoned or inhabitants killed in the revolt. There hasn’t been anybody in them… or at least shouldn’t have been.”

That was a tiny bit better, still careless and childish, but at least he hasn’t massacred his people to derive the tension. The wind blew among the remnants every salty breath reminding him to the marching Void. This destruction and that menace couldn’t fit side by side. What’ll they do if the Outsider doesn’t get better?

They will have to talk about this… Something has to be made, find out, or else… He sighted, thought about Delilah’s skin over the gate.

Obadiah was investigating the ruins deep in his own thoughts, he too looked nervous but determined. The man turned out to be greater help than any overseer he thought would be. He wanted to ask him about his thought on what happened, but before he could speak up Obadiah motioned him to keep quiet and come closer.

“Something moved” he pointed toward a pile of debris.

They sneaked closer, weapon ready; he didn’t trusted Obadiah enough to show him his newfound magic.

A huge, grey-brown body lay on the ground, form distorted like it faced an explosion and its burning, flown apart pieces were frozen into time, its head was missing. They both recognized it.

“This thing was there in the harbor. The Outsider fought it and chased it away.”

“It’s an Envisioned. They were the one sacrificing the Outsider back at the time and came after him when he got free.”

“That actually explains a lot.” Obadiah poked the body with his foot, then as it didn’t react crouched beside it take a closer look. “If he was fighting this thing, that’s different. Was it dangerous?”

“There are probably more of them. They were the one burning down your prison.”

“That’s a yes; and one less mystery” he stood up. “The only thing I now know for sure is that this thing couldn’t move, so there I something else here with us.”

They kept silent and looked around, but nothing moved for now just the dust in the gusts. The ruins were smaller than they seemed from the inside where the rest of the walls blocked their way to the streets. He wondered if there were already onlookers outside or creeping inside to take a look. Maybe Obadiah saw one of those.

“Lord Protector…” Obadiah asked at last. “What happened here? I don’t mean here” he motioned around” but here as the whole thing. With the Outsider here, with these… Envisioned here, sickness, powerless witches, everything.”

He hesitated, as open-minded as the overseer was among his kin he was still bound to the Abbey and those bastards usually did more harm than good. On the other hand, he needed Obadiah’s help. The second time that day he talked about Meagan, the mine, but left out the Outsiders’ memories, the gods of the past, the personal aspects and that there are far worse things coming after the Outsider than a few Envisioned.

During the explanation Obadiah hasn’t looked at him once, eyes strictly on their surroundings but then he looked up grimacing.

“So… what is he now? He really was human before if I understand correctly, then he had been turned into this…ghost god demon thing and now he lives again. But what I’ve met in the harbor wasn’t human by far.”

He frowned. “I haven’t seen what you’re talking about.”

“Then maybe you are too close to see it. Or I’ve seen him in the worst time possible, but he was… Empty. He was so far away, he was like a… net. It sounds stupid, but he felt like one: a net in the ocean reaching far deep and wide spread, being at so many places from that exact point and… his eyes looked like it’s nothing inside just some ancient, alien, cold, distant, curious thing that definitely wasn’t alive.”

He couldn’t say he didn’t understand what Obadiah was talking about, but the Outsider was so much more than that. He saw the love, the joy, the sadness in his eyes, felt the touches, heard his thoughts and saw him melting, getting more like a human with every passing second, because he _knew_ him. Except if he really was too close to see.

“You haven’t met him when he was a ghost.”

“No, I haven’t. What was he like?”

“A mystery. He acted like he didn’t give a damn about the world…”

“And he did?”

He felt he did, he knew he did but still didn’t know how to put it to make sense. The work of the god wasn’t evident in their day to day life, but he _felt it,_ as he felt the memories of the Outsider. Never exactly saw them, but always felt them through the mark like he felt the memories of the struggle he did for this world, but hadn’t had the words to voice them.

“It’s complicated. Do you think he’s dangerous?”

Obadiah arched a brow.

“You know just as well as I what the Abbey thinks about him. Unofficially- “he looked at him with question and continued only when he nodded. “ Unofficially I think the Abbey is wrong, misfortune and natural disaster happen without a god to cause them. There are bad people out there that’s all. If he wanted harm he wouldn’t have been silent for so many years. And yes, Daud’s whalers and Delilah’s coven were a menace but Slackjaw’s gang was one too and they’ve nothing to do with magic.”

Obadiah scratched his sparse beard. He hasn’t been wearing his mask for this, not working for the Abbey at the moment.

“About whether he is dangerous: he is hands down the most dangerous thing this world could imagine, but… this is property damage. He killed who had hurt him but isn’t on a killing spree, doesn’t sit on the throne and if he didn’t caused this new sickness“ Corvo shook his head that he didn’t “, then he hasn’t really harmed anybody this far.”

The overseer was right of course and maybe he was simply overthinking it. Most definitely. That quarrel like thing in the morning, Emily’s words and the worry made his head and heart ache. The possibility of losing the Outsider, letting him turn something that would do this to the city, to turn into something with black eyes that really doesn’t care for anything…

Something moved again, this time he saw it too: a man, more than one – he noticed – moving around the ruins, circling them. They had weapons. He yanked Obadiah down with him behind a remaining wall piece own weapons readied.

He weighed his options whether he should take them out quietly from the shadows as he had done so many times or just call out for them to show themselves like normal law enforcement and an overseer would do. The people around them were faster. A man stepped out to the small clear space that had been a middle of a living room before.

“Come for and drop your weapons! I don’t want to harm you and won’t let you harm my men in return.”

He and Obadiah looked at each other and the overseer shrugged. His magic would give him the upper hand whatever may happen, so he nodded too and they tossed their weapons over the wall, circled it to be face to face with the man talking to them.

That man was surprisingly put together: He was taller than Corvo, more handsome too with his rich brown hair, blue eyes, strong but lithe body, pretty face and powerful, confident gaze. Now his eyes were stormy due to something upsetting working inside him; he looked tired and nervous under his unwavering posture. He saw something – Corvo concluded – or something happened to him. The signs of an Abbey prison were well visible on the man, but Corvo guessed the trauma to be more recent.

Obadiah recognized the man.

“Captain Uriah Betteridge.” the Overseer looked at Corvo. “One of the captains leading Delilah’s uprising.”

“Overseer Obadiah Pipe-Wolferstan.” Uriah nodded in return. “We met a few times…”

He sounded relieved and that made Corvo frown. He expected the two to at least to glare at each other, but Obadiah looked more interested than anything else and Uriah visibly relaxed.

“It could’ve been so much worse.” Uriah said looking nervously around. But this anxiety wasn’t directed to them. “I’m sorry, Obadiah, for the blood we shed. We didn’t know it was the Void’s doing. It’s been poisoning the world through us.” His voice shook with anger. “It used us to feed from the world and we danced for it like puppets. If we had known...”

They both wanted to ask, but Uriah continued.

“The Outsider showed me what our magic really was.” he shuddered in disgust. “What the Envisioned did…”

“He was here.” Corvo interrupted.

“Yes, he… came from nowhere, challenged the Envisioned about what they’d done. Killed a few. Showed me the truth about magic then left as he came. I and my witches have been guarding the perimeter since, took care of the two Envisioned’ who survived. As he showed me our magic, I felt the Void coming, and felt it in the city. Our god said I’ll have to fight it, but not alone and I’ve been waiting here for him to come back or send somebody.” He looked at Corvo. “You feel like him, that’s why we’ve let you two in.”

Uriah looked at him with questions and readiness to go as he orders fight every way he can, but he shook his head.

“I know nothing about this.”

“He said he had a plan.”

That at least seemed like good news. “That I know nothing about.”

They should’ve been talking – he cursed himself --, all this chaos shouldn’t have happened. He needed to find him; they needed to make this right.

“I don’t really understand it.” Obadiah joined in. “What’s this thing about the Void coming?”

Uriah explained it to him: he talked about the Void that’s not really alive, doesn’t even know what life is, but have some kind of consciousness that gets its only amusement from pain, death, destruction and the living playing according to its rules. He talked about the Outsider who was sacrificed for magic in a deal between his family and humans; he talked about the failure of the sacrifice due to the predecessors of the Abbey and the Void that now could reach the world, the people inside it and used them for his own amusement: poisoning, killing driving them crazy. He talked about the Void waking and coming on the ocean.

“It’ a few days from here still, but part of it reached the city already.” Uriah continued. “I felt it on the streets: a bigger and a smaller, both spreads like some fumes, it’s around us.”

“Where?” Obadiah asked.

“Near the harbor.”

“The sickness.” the overseer nodded. He looked like this all started to make sense for him. He looked deep in thought, processing the new information and weighting their chance probably about how to fight this thing now.

“Has the Outsider said what his plan is?” Corvo asked.

“No.”

“Or where he went?”

“I hoped you would know that.”

Yes, he should’ve but he didn’t. Most of Uriah’s story was new for him too. Especially the part where the gods, his family betrayed him must have hard for the Outsider. He loved them, yearned for them and this… this could’ve pushed him further down the rabbit hole. Except he seemed surprisingly sane in Uriah’s story. Or at least Uriah could spin it like he was.

He left the other two in the living room talking. Now that they had a common goal their past seemed forgotten. He wondered whether anybody else than Obadiah could get over so fast the fact he was working with witches, although the background of their power shed a new light to all what happened. Wanting power is one thing; turning to a puppet to that power is different. He thought about the Outsider; they needed to talk.

He opened the mark he closed that morning in anger. It was a sensation such he never used or felt before. He reached out through their connection, felt the dulled turmoil of emotions, but wasn’t familiar with it enough to tell from where they were coming from.

He felt a touch like a hand got hold of his.

Corvo.

_I’ve missed you._ It burst out of him without meaning to. He felt honest, open and vulnerable; he felt like he could pull that hand closer, hide his cheek in it. He felt it caressing him, felt the touch, the embrace through the mark. The ruins around him seemed now colder than ever.

_I’m sorry about what I said this morning. --_ he felt through the mark – _I’m better now, it’s all right my dear._ He let himself get lost in the feeling. The sky was grey above them, he saw other witches among the ruins from the corner of his eyes, heard the city around themself and still like he was in a protective bubble that rippled, changed constantly, but was his, their. The inside could be the same in the violently changing world.

I’ve met some people who will fight with us.

It felt like a forehead was laid on his, felt a caress, an embrace so soft, gentle and afar. It wasn’t enough, couldn’t be.

I know. I’m here with Uriah.

So you saw the place of the Envisioned. Are you angry?

Not so much anymore. I’m worried about you.

For that he got no answer only the heavy feeling of understanding, rue and apology. He reached out again for him alongside the mark just to feel him closer, but he met walls.

_What are you hiding from me?_ he shot, anxiety and mistrust spiked again. He got hesitancy as an answer, that damn hesitancy again.

I’m not hiding anything. Though there are things I want you to hear from me, not through the mark or from anyone else.

You found something.

Not what you would think and I do not know if it will help us at all.

He was sure he couldn’t feel the sadness and loss only because the Outsider’s end of the mark was obstructed. He decided to be patient this time. They didn’t have more time than they had that morning, but Emily was right and he couldn’t leave his lover alone with his past. He was Lord Protector no more and he loved this man. Loved him no matter what was heading toward them. They did this right or couldn’t do it at all. Even his family turned on him. He wasn’t like that, would never be.

Where are you? I’m going there.

Hesitancy again, but then he felt the place, felt the direction, saw the house in his mind.

I meet you here.

And with that the connection broke and he was left there. He felt cold and alone thought nothing really changed: grey sky, witches around, ruins and dead Envisioned, grey dust that made him cough. It contrasted the last night so much, the warm body beneath, the arm around him, and the security that he is loved and protected. He was good at protecting people and the worst at making others feel loved.

He sighted. The worst time, this was the worst time for this all.

The perimeter couldn’t be left without Obadiah and Uriah being notified so he headed there. And also to ask them if they could work something out, but on his way back he took notice of the two huge distorted bodies lying in the cover of a wall. The two Envisioned still alive. Alive just barely, thought the witches seemed like they were trying to help – a little at least.

He went closer: the legs of the two figures were shattered, arms too mostly, chest crippled. They were dying; he doubted they would survive even if they healed as fast as the Outsider.

One of the Envisioned opened its eyes as he got closer. It groaned.

“You’re not the kid. You smell like him.” It visibly was hard for the thing to talk with the collapsed chest. Every breath and word was accompanied by a whistling sound from a punctuated lung or trachea.

The Envisioned jolted suddenly, trying to sit up in the fright of the revelation.

“It’s you who he came back to. Fuck my life, fuck this all damn thing, just…!” He tried to breathe without success, the witches gathered around them. “Look at me! The others… The others went to the palace to get that woman who freed him. We thought she is the one. But she isn’t. She won’t be able to stop the kid and he will kill my bothers. Please just…”

The Envisioned were in the palace. The same palace Emily was in.

He shot a message to the Outsider through the mark, he shouted Obadiah that he’s going back and he blinked away in an instant.

 

## Meagan

 

She was washing her face in the sink, meeting deep darks circles under her eyes in the mirror as she looked up: the sign of many sleepless nights. She felt sick, cold, paranoid, like something was watching her: that eye in the mine, the lingering touch of the Void always at the back of her mind. Out of reach, in the darkness, she couldn’t kill it and couldn’t shush it. It was pushing her toward magic. She felt the calling inside, the hunger, she needed to feel that power in her hands again, needed to please. She dreamed about drawing patterns to the ground, about sacrifices, about blood and that sweet sweet feeling of belonging to something, being complete, powerful. The feeling became stronger with every day and she just knew it will consume her the minute she relents to it the slightest.

She groaned as the feeling swept through her again. It was the Void, couldn’t be anything else. She had power before, magic from so different people: Daud, Delilah, The Outsider neither left her in this state. Those powers were clear, sharp, like fresh water; this was a marsh pulling her down with every breath. She needed help form the Outsider. The thought and the trust she had toward that man now made her snort. Ridiculous. Still. It felt good to trust somebody even if it only turned out this way because of what they went through together.

She wondered if she would follow the Outsider if he leaves the Palace. Probably, if wants to, but sooner or later she would go after him. Ridiculous. Especially because she was Lady Protector now. Not like she owed anything to the Empire: to Emily and Corvo maybe according to that gnawing feeling that made her accept the position in the first place, but…

She almost missed the feeling. The Void. Like a smell. Like in the mine. That perked her up, she was listening, but there was nothing just the noises of the Palace. And still. It spreaded like a smell. She left the bathroom. Nothing in her room. She stepped outside and nothing on the floors, everything in order. This couldn’t be only on her head. Servants, guards… One of the guards looked up from downstairs, their eyes met and she knew. In that moment she knew, no matter how ridiculous it seemed, how disturbing or sickening it felt, she recognized that thing, that Envisioned from the mine. It looked like any other guard, but that look, that aura… Corvo warned her that those things are here. She should’ve known better. The Void had come after her, them. For fuck sake.

Emily.

Damn Empress. She was without power and explosives – with her gun only. That wasn’t a weak choice in a one to one but these things weren’t alone. And now they had people around, the Empress. She was the only one recognizing these things or being able to fight. Stripped from magic against these monsters. Maybe the Void put its hand on her sooner than anyone thought.

But she had an Empress, so she run. Some of the guards left their position to follow her.

Emily was busy in her office, of course she was, and Meagan was lacking still the tact somebody working with the Empress needed.

“We need to go!” she barged into the office for the surprise of the Empress and some aristocrats.

 “Excuse me!” Emily arched a brow with indignation.

She couldn’t tell her that some Void monsters in the palace and for a second she froze not knowing how to proceed. Then she manned up.

“You wanted me to have this job, now you listen to me and come when warn you. My Majestic” she added. It could’ve gone smoother – she admitted.

Emily looked like she will shop her head down for a moment then she nodded.

“Excuse me, Sires, seems like an urgent appointment came up, please, my guards ill escort you from the palace and we will continue this an other day.”

They had no time to waste though and she motioned the Empress toward the other door, then to the corridor.

“So?” Emily asked looking around.

“You may not believe me, but they are from the Void.”

“Oh, I believe you. I had a very interesting conversation with father.”

That made it a lot easier. She was looking around furiously trying to spot the guards and he did one coming up the stair. Its eye betrayed it, that focus he as checking its surroundings constantly.

It spotted them, its glance signaled to an other on their floor. She didn’t know how many there were.

“What’s the safest place here?”

“My suite.”

They run there, she didn’t see but felt the Envisioned on their backs. They arrived there and closed the doors, activated the security apparatus and then just waited. Meagan had her weapon in hand, listened for steps, anything from outside. If there were more too many of them, her gun was useless.

For minutes nothing happened, then a wall of light buzzed.

They appeared in the room without opening a single door. Meagan pushed Emily behind her back protectively weapon held high, aimed at the Envisioned. One of them approached them.

“Back away or I shout!” she threatened. The Envisioned actually stopped.

“You woman were a menace in the mine too.” it shook its head. “Made a shitload of problem for us all.”

“Don’t hurt her, we don’t want the kid angry.” an other Envisioned warned.

The first one shrugged, the other stood around them, towering above them. She didn’t have enough bullet for them all.

 “You assume he wouldn’t be furious after this.”

“His woman here will calm him or everyone in the palace will die?” the second Envisioned looked at her. “Am I clear? And now kneel to the wall! We have still much to do.”

 

## Adeline

 

“Are you alright, my Lord?” she sat down to the ground in front of the Outsider.

A minute before, when she left to fetch a tea, the god was looking through the recordings and notes Delilah’s left behind. Now he was just sitting on the bed, legs folded, elbows on the knees, chin on the hands and was watching the mattress under him. He looked up for the question and took the tea she was offering.

She didn’t remember a time she was happier in her entire life. Her god was there with her, the being she followed; to she offered her life to, for she suffered and endured. She felt peace and content with him, the danger dulled in his protective presence – despite what she got to know from the audiographs or rather especially for what she did.

“You looked through all this Adeline…”

“Not all of it; hadn’t had the time, my Lord. I couldn’t have known what I’ll find.” she said remorsefully.

“You couldn’t.” he sighed. “This…” he motioned to the stuff stacked on top of each other beside him “is not what I expected. But then you know about the other victors, you know what happened, who I am… that I don’t remember anything due to Belial’s protection. And now this.”

Her god looked so composed now, level-headed and real. Human. An entity who understood the world he should rule over. The happiness and adoration banished every concern from her mind about the future and the Void racing toward them on the ocean. She dreamt about meeting him for so long but never thought he would be so close, so perfect, his eyes would be so deep gray, intelligent, filled with emotions; his posture would be so relaxed, powerful and sad.

“But even you don’t know how the Void got stopped.”

“Delilah couldn’t go back that far. She said the Void doesn’t have memories; the ability to remember was born with you, just as the sight to the future. And you were born way after the war.”

“It is no sight.” he said looking out of the window. “I can see the possible futures, because I can see every path, I can guess every decision anyone can make because I know humans. The future is myriads of small decisions, the movement of the stars and other wonders out there that humans know still nothing about. I can tell you what’s the most possible future for million years to this second, but it’s not written, anybody could change a mind the slightest and the future would change with it. That’s why it’s hard and a sure prediction takes a long time. For humans at least. As a god my every decision is a shuffle for the whole deck, not just for a card and I can’t see those consequences.”

The god was looking at her for a long minute contemplating. He looked wondrous: strong and alive.

“Would you see the future for me, Adeline?”

The honor of the offer took her words away, could only nod and fall to her knees, head bowed down.

“Everything for you, my Lord.”

“I wish there won’t be a time I has to ask for everything.” Like the gods of the past did: asked for the lives, the souls because they had to. Those time must been hard, she understood no more than she ever thought she would. “Come closer!”

She knelt before the bed; the Outsider took her into his hands: two palms at the two sides of her head gently but firmly.

“It won’t be like the Void, I will take care of you. Close your eyes!”

She did and felt a power like clear spring water running through her, breathing became easier, like the weight of her body fell off like a burden she carried before. There were lights and movement and events happening and talking and lines and rushes and she didn’t needed to breath, like no she had stuck her head out under water which she didn’t know was towering over everything she ever knew. And she was outside, outside of everything with the wide nothing behind him, with the lights, movements, life, lines and rushes under her. Free. Everywhere. Outside. And he _saw._ Saw the world and the living.

She felt her magic vibrating, dancing, flowing free, like she was a flower blooming, and although she saw _,_ she couldn’t make sense of it, like it was too much color, voice and life. The most beautiful. The most frightening if she was alone.

“It is alright, Adeline, let me lead you, open your eyes!”

She did and saw lights, Dunwall, she felt like a city itself, like she was part of it, breathing with it, beating with it, she saw the palace, the district, the harbor, her magic licking the shores like the waves, blew like the wind. Time rushed around him back and forth then halted abruptly and the visions turned out clearer around her.

Darkness, fire, screams, cries, masses moving, something shapeless, mindless, and hungry, people on the ground, underground. Alien, cold, the Void, he remembered the feeling. Roars. Something moved and she cried out.

“What are you seeing?” heard the calm voice from beside her, but couldn’t see the god only felt the hands keeping her together, not letting the Void got to her.

“People fighting.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you know, Adeline, just look at them, into them, understand them!”

“A witch, he has powers, wants so much, wants to matter: Uriah. He is fighting the beast. And an overseer, he is a kind one, would have been a teacher if he hadn’t met his wife. They fight together. There I gangster there with them but his people are dying.”

“What are they fighting?”

“The Void’s monsters.”

“Where am I?”

“Away. Far. They’re afraid you won’t come back.”

“Look further, toward the ocean!”

She did, turned her head, blinked and she was at the ocean, on the ocean, the wharf far behind her. Tear run down on her cheeks, her lips opened for a silent scream, she was shaking, wanted to flee, the survival instinct tried to save her, but she stayed. Every inch of her body screamed for running but he stayed and looked into its mouth: into nothing: into the floating rock and mist-like substance as the matter of this world dissolved in the Void. The ocean raged, the waves reached up high, were gulped down by the Void then regorged without the life in it. Huge: tearing the sky and earth apart, approaching, eating, enjoying…

“Can’t, can’t, I can’t, please!” And she was still watching. There was no one there, no one fighting. Everything empty. All dead or run away. But there was nowhere to run. She was alone in the ghost town of Dunwall, the city strange, different, in ruins. This wasn’t the Dunwall she knew. “Don’t leave me here, don’t let me die here…!”

A wave engulfed her. Darkness, but the coldness didn’t come.

“I’m here, Adeline. Breath!”

She felt warm, arms around her: safe and away. The vision disappeared and she was lifted up, head on a shoulder, a blanket around her. The Outsider put her down on a couch and sat aside her as she opened her eyes. He was watching her for a few long minutes making sure she was alright while neither of them said anything.

“Nobody was there.” she managed but her voice felt small. “But this is stupid, somebody will always be there. I will. They could run, but I will stay.”

“You haven’t seen me there?”

She shook her head. “But that’s bullshit, right?”

The Outsider sighted. “If I’m not there, then something happened that didn’t let me be there. Something more powerful than I am.”

“We have to find out what.”

“You can’t do this alone and I can’t see it myself.”

“Then we do this again! I can be your eyes!”

The Outsider smiled gently. “Take a rest, Adeline!”

“We don’t have the time to rest.”

“You are just like my chosen.”

“Attano.”

The god nodded, looked out of the window watching nothing in particular.

“Since last night I dived from memory to memory looking for my past, anything that could help and then just for anything… To see them, feel them. I bled all my blood, drove myself crazy, and made myself weak.”

“Did you found anything?”

The Outsider kept silent for a heartbeat. “The will to fight.”

“Isn’t that all that matters?”

“No, sadly” he sighted. ”We will need more than that, although that’s a start and way more than I had this morning. But I can’t find out directions in my visions from the past, I don’t know for which moment I should ask to get the information I need and I don’t have more blood to bleed. It’s the same with the future; to find out why I’m not there fighting the Void we should check many hundreds of timelines and decision, which I couldn’t do even if the whole Coven were working for me. Learning these things takes time.”

“Can’t we just check the past as we checked the future?”

“Normally you could, but my past is hidden by the Void. Belial’s doing, to save me, to not let the Void and what I will see break me.”

“But it did.”

The Outsider opened his mouth to answer then he closed it, the emotions were storming in his eyes.

“I love to think it only broke an armor. Even if I don’t know what is beneath that.”

They were silent for a time. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, thought about the last few days, weeks, years. It all seemed insignificant now in the light of the Void and the Outsider. He mused about what the other witches in the Coven would say, what Delilah would say? What would’ve been different if she hadn’t died?

“Why Attano? Why don’t Delilah?” she asked. Her master could’ve been just as good, she was fighter, she knew a lot about magic and the world, the Outsider could’ve used her. They would’ve been awesome. Delilah would’ve fought the Void, wouldn’t have left an empty city behind; she was the most powerful witch beside the Outsider. She was a chosen before their god left her to die.

“You know how Delilah was; you listened to the audiographs, you know why I was angry. And I was looking for Corvo, somebody like Corvo for a long time. For somebody who fights for what he believes in, for somebody who can’t be defeated and goes further and further through whatever life throws at him. For somebody who is sane, who can’t be led off by wealth, power, might, anger; who wouldn’t kill just because he can, who isn’t led by emotions and does what he has to and only that.”

“It doesn’t sound fun.”

“It’s not fun. Not for him and not for the others around him.”

“Why would you look for somebody like that?”

“To be sure you humans have a chance against the Void. But as surprising as it is, I’m working out my motivation with my memories.” he smiled.

With that smile he understood it. “You love him.”

The Outsider just shrugged to play it off, but it made him think, he saw it on his face.

“Is this the god you wanted, Adeline? You were looking for me all your life, did you ever thought I would turn out like this? Broken? Weak? Afraid?”

“In love?” she asked kinda joking.

“That too, if you insist.”

This actually made her think. She wasn’t disappointed, but was this what she expected?

“What I expected came from Delilah’s stories about you. From those you seemed like a distant somebody who doesn’t really cares for this life, puts us through tests to makes sure we are worthy for magic but expects us to fight our fight on our own with the Abbey. I expected somebody cold and lifeless, distant. The god I imagined wouldn’t sit with me, although he would know the answer to anything. But I’m not disappointed. I feel like you feel for me, my Lord, that you understand. You have a soul, have a weakness, but that brings you closer to us, reachable, understandable. You’re fighting with us, for us, not from above us in your spare time. You have a human soul with a god’s mind, power and understanding and that’s more than we could ever ask for.”

“I’m not human, Delilah saw it. I’m…” That information impacted him greatly, the most from them all. She’s seen his face as he heard it the first time, than the second, third; saw the shock, confusion and the long minutes after that in silence. In the end she needed to give him some pace so she went to make some tea.

Now she interrupted him before the implications of the information could drag him down. She hasn’t thought it such a big deal, but understood perfectly why it was for him. She understood but was almost sure others wouldn’t. Attano wouldn’t. That man was blind, dumb and she hated even the thought of him.

“You’re human enough _and_ a god, can’t that be enough?”

She didn’t get an answer but didn’t really expected one either. She was proud to be the one there, to be the one helping: not the chosen, not Attano, but she, the injured witch woman. Maybe Attano was special but he was away. It a petty revenge, she knew but she wanted Attano to know, wanted him to doubt and suffer for what he did with Delilah.

“Adeline… I want to try something.” The Outsider’s words brought her attention back. “The magic you witches had had come from the Void, you know that already from Delilah, but there _is_ magic. My magic and the magic of the victors is independent form the Void, as much as anything can, but we are not under control. Real magic is understanding, Adeline, the ability to see life from the outside, to see the whole picture. When you are the part of the system, part of life you won’t see anything, like if you were in a maze, but magic raises you above the all blocking your visage.”

“That’s what the victor’s gained: the Eye of the Void. There is no further out, more different from life than the Void, it can see, but cannot understand, that is something only a living can; only humans. But the victor gained the Eye, were able to understand, and with understanding, they gained power. Because what you really understand, that you can dominate. The understanding of emotions give you power above them, understanding a soul gives power above humans, understanding time and space makes you able to spin both as you see fit and understanding everything make you able to predict the future.”

“What you understand, you can change: the victor recreated life, my chosen moved through space with it and turned bodies back to dust. The power itself is from the song of the Void, but the Eye was a prize and understanding is free. It’s what the victors had, it’s what I have, what Belial intended to give by my sacrifice. My chosen used what’s mine: power already learned and ready, the only thing I could give from the other side of the Veil, the only thing I cared to give. Most of them used it wrong. But I want to know whether I can give it now: the Eye, the ground of magic. You will have to learn, find things out on your own and with my help. It’s a long process, but you could learn the real magic if you want to.”

Magic. Understanding. Real. The connection to the world, to everything. Everything she ever wanted, the sensation she felt as the Outsider’s magic has flown though her.

She felt the tears flowing down on her cheeks.

“Yes, my Lord, you honor me.”

He put his hands on her head. “Promise me, you will be careful with this, Adeline! Knowing about the world around you will change everything, don’t get lost beyond the present!”

“I will be cautious.”

She felt the magic flowing through her again. There were no colors, voices, lines, lives running beside her now, only that clear feeling, the weightlessness, like her mind opened, breathing became easier. The flown of the magic ebbed after a few seconds but the feeling nestled itself inside her chest. The change wasn’t drastic, but she felt somehow bigger, felt connected, like everything on the world would’ve been just an arm’s reach away and everything felt like a secret that now she was able to solve, to open up even if for now she only felt the absence of understanding.

The god let her to try it out for a few minutes: the reaching out, asking, processing. She was playing only with the room they were in, but after a few minutes she could kind of feel the people here before them: Delilah and her most trusted witches. They were powerful enough to leave a trace.

“You will have to work on this.” the Outsider said at last “It won’t be fast and won’t be easy, but I will help.”

Despite his words now he seemed worried.

“You go to the city, look for the man named Uriah you have seen in the future, talk to him then bring him to me! I have some old business in the palace I have to take care of.”

 

## Corvo

 

He entered the palace exactly the same way he did when he came for Delilah. The deja vu hit him hard, made him more anxious than necessary. Coming for Delilah had been one of the most upsetting mission he ever did: the city and the palace drenched in blood, the Coven witches everywhere. His only strength was the god above him who clearly has chosen his side in the battle. He asked himself so many times why the Outsider would let these kind of people gain power -- Uriah’s explanation cleared that up at least. It didn’t make sneaking inside his own home any easier though. Witches and clockwork soldiers were all he expected: the clangs, chanting, black eyes, crazy minds, lifeless robotic precision… everyone inside dead.

But neither of those happened: the life in the palace was ridiculously normal: servant running their errands, guards standing at their places. No blood an even less panic. He wondered if they are there at all, could’ve he been the faster? Or those things were stealthier than they had any right to be. Nevertheless, if they were here they were looking for Meagan and she must’ve been with Emily.

_You coming?_ he reached out through the mark.

On my way.

That calmed him a little. He wasn’t fighting this alone – with that he was fed up. A deep breath calmed him in the shadows at his hiding place. He saw everything from there but nobody could see him. A few months ago he has been checking the routes of the witches from this same place.

The Vision helped him look for clues and check the place. Meagan said these things could be killed with explosives. That wasn’t an option here: so a gun, a knife, luck… The Outsider. What he did to the other Envisioned and to the place he found them wasn’t the most reassuring, although Obadiah was right: nobody really died. The god wasn’t a psycho, that he couldn’t tell about the Envisioned.

He checked the throne room first, then Meagan’s quarters on the way to Emily’s residence. There he saw the silhouettes from one of the inner rooms and one of the Envisioned masked as one of the royal guards. There was route from above, he chose that watching the Envisioned from out of sight. The two women were there with them in capture but unharmed for now. They waited for the Outsider it seemed, he couldn’t let Emily near them as he arrived.

He used all his power he had, stopped time itself, blinked in to get Emily and would’ve blinked out. It would’ve worked with any other foe, but now his magic got outpowered the moment he blinked in, a sword like arm swinged toward him; he managed to crouch just in time and blast the Envisioned to the wall, draw a weapon.

“Dad, don’t kill him!” Emily’s scream distracted him just enough that another monster could strike him from the side, smash him to a wall and rip up his abdomen. His bullet hit the wall.

The pain made him unable to move, felt the blood gushing out in pulses. Emily screamed and tried to move, but Meagan grabbed her just as one of the Envisioned striked again.

“Fuck, it was…!”

Everything went still in a second, like the eye of the storm which they didn’t even know was raging reached them. The Outsider was standing at the middle of the room, face strict, black eyes focused on him on the ground. He was like the storm itself and the peace itself, he breathed with the room. The ghost he saw so many times at the altars now like the coldest fire. The Envisioned were thrashing in the air fighting to breathe. Emily and Meagan safely at the back. His fears were irrational.

He wanted to speak, but the words didn’t came. The Outsider kneeled beside him and he was only thankful he could see him again before...

“You go nowhere, my dear.” he felt the gods forehead on his, his hands on on his cheeks, one on the wound beside his own that failed to keep the blood inside. The words were just the breath on his lips or an echo through the mark. “You go nowhere, I’m here, I won’t go anywhere. _I’m sorry I left, Corvo, but I’m here._

The pain lessened as the magic washed over him with the feeling of care and tenderness. _Don’t leave me…_ The feelings he got as answer warmed his heart. The wound healed on his side, he reached up, pulled the man above him closer, pushed his lips to his. He felt the smile.

“You rest a little, I take care of this then we talk.”

The Outsider got up, looked at the Envisioned still alive but exhausted and in pain in the squeeze of magic.

“You harmed what’s mine.” He said it matter-of-factly but with so much coldness and edge he saw Emily flinch. “In his house of all things. Threatened his family.” The god looked at the leader. “Your companions are dead at the house, greet them for me when you meet!”

“No, please!”

It was Meagan. She stepped forward approaching the Outsider.

“I know.” she did a calming motion with her hand. “I know, but it was a stupid mistake. Just hear them out, please! They told us everything.”

“Everything, hm?” the god asked watching the woman and for a moment he thought he will dismiss her, but then his posture changed, he sighted. Meagan had an influence on the Outsider: she was mercy on two legs; and it was strange to see the god relent to her. “And what would that everything be? The Void? The gods? The sacrifice? The magic?”

“All of those.”

The magic holding the Envisioned lessened, their legs touched the floor and they could breathe again. They looked at their leader who was in front of the Outsider now.

“We came to talk.”

“No, you came for me. The only reason you want to talk because your magic is fading, I woke, have my magic back and you have no chance against me. You talked to them about the sins of the victors, what you considered sin, about your plan to give magic to the people, about your pact with the gods, what happened when Meagan freed me, about the Void and what it will do with the world if we don’t stop because try to sell yourself as the good guys. They are smarter than that.”

“And we told them who you are.” The emphasis with the leader said it made the statement sound sinister. The Outsider froze.

“Turning them against me, like you did with my family.”

“It wasn’t necessary; it was Belial who came to us. It all was his plan. And he was the one explaining where you’ve come from.” The Envisioned leader turned to him. ”The kid was…” He gaped like a fish throat clenched. Looking at the Outsider it was clear it was his doing. He looked at him too. Afraid. He was afraid, Corvo realized. Never saw him like this before.

As he talked his voice sounded blank.

“The kid came from the Void. The victors found him as they were stealing back the souls after the battle. He was fragmented, combined from many things human kneaded together. But that all came from the Void, was born into the world, a soul that was formed in the Void then escaped the Void with the victors. Grew up as a kid who Iorel tried to keep away from all that, tried to keep human, save; and Belial sent back for the greater good. That is why I have a greater influence on the Void than anyone else, that’s the reason my magic is different than the victors, why I can give it away… and why I could be the only one sacrificed as a breach to the Void.” The Outsider was looking at him. “I learned that today. It wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you.”

He was speechless, too numb from the information to really understand all the implications. But the Outsider wasn’t human. What he saw today: the destruction, the power: that was the Void. No sanity, no humanity, what he saw on the quay, in the garden... He fucked the Void.

He looked up the Outsider, the still black-ish but mostly human eyes, the still powerful posture. Like somebody who went through too much to be allowed to be weak for a second, but his eyes were begging. Last time he was weak Corvo pestered him to get his shit together. He pestered the Void. That’s the reason the god didn’t want to help. The man he loved wasn’t real.

And this was bullshit, his insecurities talking. That didn’t make it less true, less troubling, but he couldn’t lose his trust now. Neither of them deserved that; and he just wished they could’ve talked before coming here.

The Outsider reached for him through the mark but he shut himself down. His doubts were the last thing the god needed at the moment.

“And that’s why you have to...” The Envisioned continued stubbornly as the magic lessened again and snapped the Outsider’s attention back in an instant.

“I’m not going back.”

“The whole world could be destroyed.”

“What do you care about that? Your magic is fading, you all will disintegrate in a few days even if I stop the Void.”

“We’ve worked for this too much.”

“And still you managed nothing. Your sacrifice were sabotaged by the Abbey and the only thing you did was making the Void be able to touch the world through me. To gain my magic I would have to want to give it and as incredible as this is, torturing a child hadn’t helped.”

“We are not bad men, kid.” The first time did the envision leader seemed honest. “I love this world and I wanted to help it. Thousands were massacred back then to entertain the Void, because thirty-six pair of eyes wasn’t enough to keep it amused even if one of those belonged to you. Belial and I thought maybe if we all were connected to it, if it could watch through all of us, could understand through us, it would help. You would’ve provided the magic and the others would’ve taught them.”

“Even if you sacrifice me again there is no one left to teach magic here.” The Outsider said. He was taking this all way more calmly than he expected.“ As long as I was there... “He shook his head. “But in that you are right that even if I stop this, only my eyes won’t be enough for the Void. So I gave my magic to a woman today.”

“What?” Corvo sat up.

The Outsider talked them about Adeline and how he wanted to know he can do this in the first place.

“I can do this, but only slowly, teaching them how to use it along the way.”

“But that would change everything!” Emily added for the first time. “The Abbey, the society, the army, the… everything. Everything we know. It could destroy the empire!”

“It likely will in the long run, yes.”

That resulted in an uncomfortable silence followed by the Envisioned leader’s remark.

“It’s all meaningless if the Void won’t be stopped.”

“I will go back to the mine, get the Timepiece.” At that the god looked at him being the only one in the room to know what that thing is.

“You want to go back in time. Where?”

The time Meagan freed him from his prison couldn’t be accessed before for him and he doubted he could do that now. Messing up the time point when he got sacrificed would probably be even more difficult. And it would wreck everything, all the four thousand years since that.

“That only would tear the Veil.” the Outsider said like he was reading mind. Reading face as he would call it. “No, my death is a fix point, just as my release. The doors of the citadel closed the time Belial got me out of there to give me a chance to run for my life. That’s the last time point anyone met the victors, I will go back there and ask them how they won.”

That sounded easy. Too easy to work. Too good to be true. The envisioned were on the same opinion, arguing that the Void would just stop upon the Outsider returning, but he shushed them.

 “I’m not going back and you are not strong enough to do anything about it.”

“But are you sure you can stop this your way?” This was Meagan asking. The Outsider looked at her and he hesitated. _Hesitated._ Millions of lives were at stake and he hesitated. One doesn’t lie to mercy.

“I will try.” the god looked back at the Envisioned. “I will do it this way and if you are not fighting with me, you are in my way.”

“What should we do to them?” Meagan asked.

“The cells in here can’t keep them, nothing could really. Just escort them out, let them decide what they want… Give me your hand, Meagan!”

The woman did and the Outsider marked her too. He was too numb to feel jealous.

“I won’t let this happen again, if they are acting up, kill them!”

“I’m going with her.” he stood up from the wall.

“Corvo…” The Outsider could say his name with so much emotion it made his heart ache. They needed to talk, he needed to hold him, feel him, just… talk about this, talk this out, calm down, feel, because he felt as if he was running in too many directions at the same time, falling to pieces.

“I’m coming back and we talk. Wait me in your room?”

The god nodded. Now that the situation was defused he seemed tired above comprehension. Like he needed a few days sleep, needed his lover just to lie beside him, give him strength, give him reassurance, direction, sanity...

He wished he was the man who can give that as he looked back leaving the room.

 

## The Outsider

 

He looked at the closed door still for a long time after Corvo and Meagan left. Tired and hungry, none of those things were familiar before.

“They haven’t left forever.” Emily joked behind his back. He turned.

“Most likely.” He looked over the Empress: the small child, woman, grandmother, all there before his eyes, all smart and beautiful. She curtsied; that made him arch an eyebrow. “Why?”

“For greeting? Respect? It’s well deserved and we haven’t met since ages.”

“There would’ve been a reality where you are the one escaping Delilah and then conquering the throne back, but your father would’ve come after me upon involving you. Two chosen trying to kill me would’ve really hurt my feelings. Sorry about dragging you into this now.”

“You lie, my father would never harm you.”

“Me? Lying?” he smirked. “I never lie, my Lady.”

“You exaggerate.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Like when you told me my father is conquering demons and monsters with beaming weapons, making friends, saving lives and turning the world a better place. Or when you told me my tea parties were the best in the Empire at the Hound’s pit attic. They are now by the way. And I made all the aristocrats do that thing with their little finger when they drink tea that we were joking about.” The Empress snickered.

“You turned out great, are doing great.”

Emily nodded, still smiling but her look turned more serious.

“Did you care for us? My family, after you left.”

He sighted. “Not as much as you would find adequate. I entertained you because I cared, but caring out there in the Void…” he motioned something vague not knowing even himself how to explain it. “It evaporates. But I still cared for you two more than anything else.”

“I was pissed of my father for not introducing us. Especially that you stay.”

“Do I now?” But couldn’t hide the lightheartedness in his voice.

“Of course. When this is all over we’ll have a nice, big family dinner together. I never had one of those.”

He wondered whether anything that Emily had left would qualify as family, wondered if his own family had those. Most likely and he probably adored them. Before he left. If he left…

“I would do that now if you really wish to have one.”

“Oh, I’m confident I’ll have the chance later. I’m surrounded with people who are famous for making things work. And besides, this is the most action I had in three months.“ She was joking, trying to process what she got to know. She was brave and sassy like only a few in her age and non this smart to go with the other traits.

A great leader, one of a kind. He met surprisingly few like her.

“I like to be involved and if you ask me-“ she put her hand on his shoulder as she passed him by. “I think a change of things couldn’t come at a better time.”

 

## Envisioned

 

Most would’ve considered what happened in the palace a failure, but not the Envisioned Excellence. It was a draw in worst case scenario, but it still could be turned to a win. Not like he wanted to harm the kid really. Even the first time wasn’t like he woke up one day with the need to kill children, but the circumstances were… constraining. Iorel haven’t done anything, Esthel fulfilled every wish for the one who asked first. Iorel killed randomly for the Void, Esthel saved only the ones who were on her side and Belial… Belial at least had a plan. Keeping the Void away, occupy it required the kid’s death. Or sacrificed at least.

But in the end the Envisioned were left alone: they hadn’t got the kid, he disappeared and the gods closed themself up in the palace. The massacre that happened later, the founding of the kid…

He didn’t want to kill him again, he wasn’t angry for the curse, wasn’t angry for what happened. Belial betrayed them, but the kid had nothing to do with it. The Outsider lost everything, he understood that, the Void was the most wrecked, sick place anyone could be, but these circumstances again…

But he gave up so much for this world, well, not for this, if he had known it will turn out like this… but the kid was right, he was dying this way or another. And still, he couldn’t leave the world behind in this state. He was responsible. And what the kid wanted was ridiculous.

He let the others go forth at the entrance of the garden while he stayed behind with the two suspicious human.

“Corvo, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“You can’t!” the woman attacked immediately. “You know what he wants and we won’t do that.”

“Meagan...”

“That’s not even a plan B! He wants to kill him.”

“We could all die.”

“He is a fucking god, he will make it work!”

“But he can’t just snap his finger and make everything right! Haven’t you heard it? They fucked this up!” Corvo gestured toward the Excellence. “You don’t know what the Timepiece is, what it’s capable of: not much in this situation. He says he’ll go back to talk to the gods, but from where? The Veil is thick, Meagan, time only can be opened up from special places: in Karnaca where Delilah did her sacrifice, but even there only to the time she did it. He would need to use that damn thing literally in the mouth of the Void. When it is in the city. When it is here. Here, Meagan, already eating. Just one thing goes wrong; just one and we all die. Everything. What if the gods don’t have an answer, what if to stop the Void we need a weapon, a music box-like something, if it’s complicated, if the gods doesn’t have it at that exact location, exact time, he won’t get the time to get it. Everything dies Meagan.”

“Belial saved his soul as he send him to the Void, but that protection is broken. This is him, all of him, on the open, with a soul, vulnerable. How long you think he will survive there like this?”

“Can you do it, or do you know how it’s done?” Corvo asked the Envisioned.

“Sadly no.”

“You see?” Meagan argued. “You know what the Void does to the soul, you saw it firsthand. How long till it kills him? A thousand year? A hundred? Ten? One?”

“We will find something out to get him back.”

“Yeah and wake the Void again? That’s no plan, Corvo.”

“Then maybe you should’ve left him in the damn stone!”

Corvo’s outcry was met with silence even from the Envisioned. He felt the thunderous emotion under the skin of the man; he felt his fear, doubt, uncertainty and almost pitied the kid. But even more than that he felt miraculously lucky first time in his life realizing in how deep of a shitstorm they would all be upon the woman killing the kid in the stone.

The woman was furious now, but she belonged to that special kind of people who became the more focused and deadlier the angrier they turned.

The Excellence didn’t even have to move a finger.

“He didn’t want to come here at first, did you know that? He was afraid of you. You should be at his side!”

“And let the city die? Meagan, no, somebody must be at his sense and he won’t be, you aren’t.”

“You shouldn’t be the one, not in this, you are not Protector anymore.”

“Because you are, right? What do you know, Meagan? How to run away? How to turn your back to the ones trusting you? I lived my life here, my family is here, our life is here; I swore to protect this empire. What did you ever fight for? You know nothing… And he is not even human.”

“He is more human than you’ll ever be.”

“For the sake of the Void, do you think I want to do this?!”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Corvo looked like the woman just slapped him.

“Get out of my sight, Meagan, get out or I swear you’re a dead woman.”

The woman couldn’t win this fight, they all knew it, but he turned back before leaving. “Don’t you think I’ll leave it at this.”

But the Envisioned knew she will, she will watch from the sideline as anyone else in the kid’s life. It was a shame, the kid liked this woman, listened to her, and protected her too. She won’t do the same and will leave this all to Corvo because she wouldn’t be able to face the consequences. She won’t ever be able to kill the man she gave life to but she knew the Void very well and Corvo’s argument scared her enough to look the other way.

He sighted. People were disappointing everywhere: now, back then, gods too, envisioned too. Iorel taught about the merits of life, that there is only freedom, no road, no goal, no purpose, no standard to meet. Only chaos, never reaching too far up, never meeting expectations. Life was a turbid lake, standards and expectation made you feel the lukewarm water and that stale odor. Despite this he reached up high, fought and ended up not much higher. There weren’t heights, this as a joke and Iorel was right.

Maybe this world wasn’t worth it, maybe his hadn’t either. But fighting for the possibility of life and optimism were everything he knew, everything he believed in. That it could be better. If it can he won’t be alive to see that.

“To stop the Void he needs to go back to the stone. You need to sacrifice him again. With this…”

He pulled down the twinbladed knife from the Void, the thing he got from Belial, out of the matter of the Void itself. It was left in the mine after the kid got free. Corvo was watching the offered weapon, the dark blades, the thing that killed his lover. And he took it.

“The Void is sensitive to its rituals” the Envisioned offered the manual too on a piece of paper he scribbled down still at their base. “Make sure to do this correctly!”

“Does we… need to make the Void listen?”

“He will suffer enough—“ as you hold the knife.

He pitied the kid again, even if he killed his men, even if he cursed them. Back then he was actually afraid of him, a kid being so alien, cold even when he knew he will die, that it will hurt, he just… like he couldn’t care. And now he knew he really couldn’t, Belial took away not only the memories but his very soul too. He felt the pain, but wasn’t able cry out. That somehow made it all worse.

If Belial didn’t changed his mind at the end, if he himself knew this will be the world, that it won’t be better…

“Do you need anything else?”

Corvo shook his head. “Don’t dare to come near us ever again!”

He shrugged. They didn’t have the need, or the time. The dark clouds were gathering above the ocean.

 

## The Outsider

 

He was sitting there on the railing of the balcony of the room he used watching the city below him. The memories of the past turned up from beneath the form of the present, but now he felt the difference. His head cleared, like a constant buzzing died down and he could think at last. Whatever happened in the citadel, that life, that bloodshed, that… planning. He was now sure they planned this. Despite how much of a failure this plan turned out to be, they wanted to do this. Was Belial plan to shut him down and leave there or did they wanted to save him later? The bloodshed destroyed the Believers, the Haters spoiled the sacrifice and Belial… maybe it all went down to Belial loving his son too much to carry out the plan making a bigger mess out of everything. In the end, it was all about the feelings.

He thought about his owns, what Emily asked, whether he cared. He did, and he didn’t. He tested all his chosen, because he was looking for somebody who… hadn’t had the traits which caused the fall of everything he knew. Power hungry, controlled by emotions. He himself haven’t qualified anymore. Like a sick joke. Now he knew he was afraid of the Void: the Void outside and even more the Void inside. He sacrificed his life once but now he knew what’s out there and was terrified to go back even if… And he hadn’t cared for Corvo actually back then. He didn’t _really_ cared, not enough to actually be moved or concerned, but he cared enough to protect his daughter and enough to break the mark later. It was just too miserable to watch. It probably made him feel things and that out there was fatal especially with the shield already broken…

“I think it was Emily” he mused looking at Corvo standing silently at the door of the balcony. “The death cracked Belial’s shield, but I only realized that something was wrong during our tea party session with your daughter. She had drawn me and you were just standing there drawing in your hand, lost, and not knowing what to do. You wanted to leave her out of this, but you were grateful, slept better knowing if something happens she won’t be left at the mercy of strangers. I was merely a moment ago.”

“Thirteen years.”

“Time is different for both of us.”

He looked at Corvo, at his tired, strained face, strong form. Last night seemed to be further away in the past than those thirteen years. Something felt wrong, but if he wanted to be honest to himself: everything felt wrong. He felt drained, petered: was tired and hungry. He has been neither since he left the stone, not like this, not _really_ and now he knew how much he missed out, how lacking the past few week were compared to be really _real._ And he did strained Corvo with his problems.

“Are you still angry at me?”

“No.” he sighted. “And I shouldn’t’ve been, I just… never’ve seen you like this before.”

“Well, I have not been like this.“ Alone, confused, at the brink of a breakdown. But the buzzing died down and he felt better: sad, drained, but focused and clear. Looked the man in the eye. “You were afraid of me.”

“Afraid for you.”

“Don’t lie to me, my dear, it’s not a good look on you.”

Corvo looked as lost as he felt, like he kicked him. That wasn’t his intention, it had been a long day, and they both had their fair share of hardship. He got off of the railing, approached Corvo, took his face into his hand, caressed his cheek with his thumb.

“Are you still afraid?”

He pulled the man closer gently; hand on his side, breath on his lips. Corvo closed his eyes under him, took a deep breath, starving the contact, the touch, the closeness, he felt it, just like he felt how his man was almost vibrating with tension, and still Corvo’s hand have found him, flat on his side, holding on.

His tension originated from far deeper than one day, hold him more tightly than even his magic could.

“Let me help you…” he said kissing Corvo’s forehead, his closed eyes, cheek, tried to hold him so he wouldn’t feel caged, just safe, cared for. His hand were on his man firmly but gently, on the tense muscles, rough cloths blood dried into them. He needed Corvo as much as Corvo needed him: to be close, to touch, to love, but when he was about to kiss him Corvo turned his face away.

It was such a slight move he could’ve ignored it if he wanted, so bitter and uncertain he didn’t had to be sure it was there, he could’ve proceed and Corvo would’ve let him. It wasn’t a definite no, but a no nevertheless. Distance. Rejection.

Corvo was watching him, hi hand till gently on the man’s shoulder. Always gently. Something inside him cried out then accepted hi fate. He should’ve known he can’t have nice things, not the thing he was, not… Through one day their whole life changed so much. He didn’t tortured Corvo asking why.

“You would think, _I_ would know” he said hand till on Corvo’s shoulder. “, _I_ would understand with the magic, _I_ would see how it connects, why things happen the way they do… But sometimes even I don’t really do. Maybe there is a shard of the Void in me, makes me survive and makes me able to force the Void to understand if only a little, but I was born like any other, raised like any other, had my mischief and arguments like any other… Now I remember all that and still this knowledge makes me feel fake. Is it because of this, or the things I did today… I don’t know. There is nothing in this story I had the strength to do differently, so I can’t feel sorry for that, but _I am_ sorry it lead us to this.”

He let go of Corvo, turned, went back to the railing, leaned to it on his forearm. Corvo almost reached after him. Almost.

“Can you stop this?” The man asked instead.

He looked over the city, watched the streets, the roofs, the small forms of the people down there.

“I will try.” he said honestly. “I tried to check the future through Adeline, looked for the battle and he saw the Void, but I wasn’t there fighting. Was I in the past? Somewhere else? Was what Adeline had seen in a few days or in a few centuries? The smallest decision can change everything; Adeline isn’t a strong witch yet, what she has seen… I can’t promise you I can win, but I promise I will fight.”

“And you can just go back if it’s not working.”

He looked back at this, the man was standing there exactly the same spot he left him, looking back at him with so deep of a gaze but his whole posture seemed guarded, conflicted.

“Go back in time? I could. I would bring you with me, Emily, Meagan. You would’ve liked it there, your kind of place, something always happening, always buzzing outside of the calm rooms… But then nothing would change, wouldn’t it? The massacre for the Void would continue; the very thing that made me say yes to all this. The Envisioned sacrificing me for magic may not have been a bad idea, or at least a part of it. It’s a shame it turned out like this.”

“But then you wouldn’t be here.”

He wished they could talk without this invisible wall between them, whished Corvo didn’t turned, whished there was more left of the times they shared even if those seemed now fake too.

“We can cope and we can heal. The world can heal and the world will change, because it will see me and see the Void. From the other side of the Veil it was different but this now won’t be enough and world will have to know magic. This was the plan, this is the plan. Change will come not because I want it but because I warrant it.”

“You endanger thousands of people in fear.”

“I don’t want harm, Corvo. After everything that is the one thing I have enough of: harm and pain. There will be neither if I can help it.”

“If it works, if the aftermath won’t destroy everything.”

In that the man as right, he nodded.

“The Void will shatter the status quo: the Abbey, the Empire, we… it depends on what people will think. For this there is no optimal future and we going in blind, falling into the mist, but I won’t leave you alone in this. Please just trust me, my dear.”

He reached out through the mark, felt Corvo’ struggle, the milliard of feelings, emotion and thoughts as he was battling the very man he was, battling to accept, to trust, to give up and just let thing happen. His soul felt like the surging ocean, so deep, so dangerous almost bottomless.  He wanted calm him, ease the burden on his shoulder: the city, the empire, the future…

Then he felt the knife and the whole world stopped. Corvo felt him feeling it, he saw it in his eye: in that shocked, frightened, guilty gaze. They were just watching each other.

“It looks like you are really coming with me to the mine.”

It’s not what he wanted to say, but his mind was silent, body silent, soul, heart everything just fell silent, mute, ringing silence. How could everything inside him scream when it was so oppressing the silence.

“I had the power over everything and what did I do?” he talked jut to fill that silence. “Nothing. Small things. Not even that. Have you seen a real cult devoted to my name, that I recognized? Have you seen me ruling the world? Have you seen me killing the ones I don’t like? I own nothing to the world and it owns nothing to me. And that’s it, isn’t it Corvo? That I am free, I don’t have to help, I am not bound, not by society, not by expectations, not by limitations. And that’s the question, isn’t it Corvo, if I, the only one, the uncontrollable, will turn out to be a tyrant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of third chapter.  
> Two more to go. And as to I mean one more two-part fourth chapter and a ingle fifth one.
> 
> And a short epi probably.
> 
> My s is broken on the laptop, there my be a great chance you noticed that. I tried to correct the mistakes I've found.


	6. The Heart of the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more to go. 
> 
> The next will be more light toned, warm and lovely. Some time dedicated to each other before the big fight and whatever ill come after that.  
> This is the longest chapter this far, but I won't have too much time to write in the next few month sadly. This thing is priority though so will see... 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy

## The Void

 

The closer it got, the more palpable its monsters turned. The more the Sickness consumed in its name the stronger it got, every tiny bit of it grew, combined, forming something big, sinister, something that spread from people to people, ate them, take control over their body. Cause everything belonged to the Void, everyone, every piece of flesh. The Sickness made sure of that just like before, claiming what it touched now – the Void being only for a few days away – able to grow its own body to roam the world: something shapeless, mindless, and hungry.

The Madness lagged behind it spreading by touch and preachers instigating violence, hatred and chaos. It fractured the world and turned the faction against each other. It wanted to bath in the blood of the ones not belonging to it. The loath and the sacrifices its pawns made with their own bodies and especially with others kept it alive. It was still the smaller, the less dominant but the more dangerous one bringing a whole era to the knees once before the victors.

Now they were both in the city preparing the ground for the real thing: the Sickness gathered and the Madness spread. One on it’s on and the other by its preachers: the old woman who it first touched, who massacred her own family to show the way, who formed a small cult in one short day and others forming their owns since then. Chaos and hatred nothing else: it infected streets, infected minds, and the Void although couldn’t feel, was – lack of a better word – pleased with them.

 

## Uriah - Madness

 

He was waiting at a doorway with a few of his nervous witches around him. They were still pale and shaken after what they’d seen. Most of the witches managed to flee the building before the Outsider wrecked the place, but some of them got stuck. He had run back to help them too to safety, but then meeting a real god changed the plan. There happened to be not a scorched hair on the tucked witches and they saw everything that happened – except the nature of magic of course. They had seen Uriah being chosen and accepted by a god and it made him an even more powerful and strong leader in their eyes. He had been one from the start: a captain for Delilah, a leader of its own in the hiding, captain for the Envisioned after the prison and now he supposed to be leading the Outsider’s ‘strike force’. He was working for a god. The implications felt incredible.

If and when. He was confident though. They haven’t had magic or anything to fight the Void with, but had weapons, the same ones he used against the Overseers. Now that the Void was cut from this side of the Veil he supposed it will be enough. Must’ve been. Cause there was maybe some monsters involved, but in the end it all came down to the people.

He looked over his mostly brave and ready people. He had already told them what he’s learned from the Outsider.

“We will get rid of the Void in the city. It is our home and it will be our deed.”

And maybe the Outsider will rule after that or at least he saves them from the Abbey – he hoped. The aftermath of the revolt made it clear in this state that is something they just can’t overcome.

When an Overseer turned up at the other end of the street they ensconced themselves into the shadows, but it was only Obadiah in his uniform and mask this time, music box on his chest. The man asked him to come after he told him about his plan at the destroyed house to help and to see what’s going on with his own eyes.

Obadiah took off his mask reaching the doorway.

“Did they follow you?” he asked the Overseer.

“I told them I’m investigating the sickness and they let me on my way.”

He folded his arm arching a brow, wondering whether the man ever lied in his life. Maybe it hadn’t been strictly necessary in this situation, but he himself would’ve made up something to avert prying. It wasn’t even what the man said, but how he said it. Obadiah seemed patient and collected even now, although in the tremble of his hand his nervousness was evident.

This Overseer was a like a teacher and father figure, a bit lost, a bit too harmless, a bit too considerate, but ready to help and ready to save, facing dangers if needed that a lesser man would steer clear of without thought. Maybe he was protecting his children. Although the reason didn’t even mattered that much.

The man made him think about his own father: a fisherman, a way simpler man, who he loved but they had nothing to talk about for a long time.

He met Obadiah during the revolt even if they never faced each other directly. They’d besieged a building with the witches where Obadiah and the others were hiding. They hadn’t got in fast enough and the Overseers fled. He just saw Obadiah leaving among the last ones helping the injured. The man looked back and their eyes met, the Overseer’s gaze full of concern, relief and a beg for him to let them go. He wasn’t in the right mind to care about such things and such men, though that day he hadn’t chased them after all. He’s seen the man after that for a few times always among the ones helping, saving the ones they can.

He himself has been a crazed madman during the revolt, the prospect of winning over the Abbey, starting a new age, a new life where he matters, he is a leader, powerful, whole and not just an ambitious nobody from nowhere, but somebody who did things, changed things clouded his judgment and humanity. And just now, talking to Obadiah and learning about the source of magic and the force poisoning them did he realized how hollow he was, how much he’s changed, how much of his humanity he’s lost on the way.

That young man in the past learning to be a diplomat couldn’t have recognized him now. Cause maybe the Void had been inciting the witches, but the anger, aggression and ambition has been his own all along, and he was quite sure he would’ve been a leader in the revolt, a massacring, crazed bloodhound which got the smell of its prey either way. With or without the Void. Maybe then would’ve been thing he wouldn’t have done. He would never know.

He apologized to Obadiah about what he did in the revolt after the Lord Protector left. The Overseer kept silent for a short time then, thought it through before he said: “You don’t have to. You don’t have to because the Abbey didn’t hunt your kind because they knew about the Void or they wanted to help. They hunted you for plain hatred and nobody ever should apologize for fighting for one’s life or a life worth living.”

Then and there he realized he is glad Obadiah survived the revolt and wished he had met the man sooner. The man made him think about his life, how it would’ve turned out upon Delilah winning, how his ‘life worth living’ looked like. It was still a thought in process.

He looked at his man.

“Let’s go!”

The smaller Void presence have been in the Distillery district, he has felt it under the hands of the god, now he led by memory, it had to be something big and extraordinary and even if it wasn’t he a pretty sure they would recognize it somehow. He introduced himself as Slackjaw.

At the place the Void should’ve been they found people already fighting. They were some gangster type men lead by an old man with an impressive mustache he shouted threats to a dark building. He measured up Uriah and Obadiah as they got closer arching his brow. He recognized Uriah, the uniform of the Overseer and grinned like he recognized the situation. He told them some madman captured some of his men and their here to save them.

The witches joined the fight; the house came alive as they got close to break through the gate. Civilians started to shoot at them grinning like they were finding great joy in it. The did manage to break into the building and the witches marched forward into the inner rooms of the house while the gangsters secured the front rooms. But breaking into the main hall stopped the fighters: the view, the smell and the horror of the scene before them nailed their feet into the floor. It hall has been turned into some kind of ritual chamber with people waiting at the walls weapons in hand, Slackjaw’s man on the ground beheaded, bled out in front of a desk and a priest like old lady on it preaching about blood, sacrifice, the privilege and the survivor of her followers. It has been the craziest, maddest thing he’s ever seen and he’s spent most of his time with witches. It seemed even more evil and sick when he realized it all has been a show for them as the other cultist killed the lagging gangsters and surrounded them from behind.

The coming fight was a hard one, they were outnumbered, surrounded, closed up. He tried to keep Obadiah and hi men alive, Slackjaw tried the same but they numbers were falling, people bleeding out on the floor or even worse got touched by some of the cultist and turned against their comrades in seconds. The old hag was laughing, held a knife in her hand. He cured himself for underestimating the situation, for thinking this could be won easily. His first fight with the Void would end up him dying before the Outsider could’ve reached him. What kind of hotheaded reckless captain he had been thinking it couldn’t be worse than fighting the Abbey? These people were a nightmare, whatever touched them it made them not feel or at least not to care about the pain of their bodies. Getting shot, getting stabbed or broken wouldn’t slow them and the force of the witches thinned, the remaining fighters got herded toward the middle.

The fight was almost lot as woman with one arm and no nose got close enough to the desk and shot the old woman in the head. Like a spell broke the follower cultist fled, some of the gangster chased them.

He and the other two stayed to face the woman. He didn’t know how she got there, why she was there, why she helped them, if she was a cultist breaking a spell or a miracle turning up but he pointed his gun at her. That stopped the woman approaching, made her visibly uneasy but her voice had been unwavering as she spoke.

 “Beheading the snake will get us only a little time. You can’t shut up the madness this easily, the more preachers you kill the more you’ll get… I’m Adeline.” she looked over all of them. “I’m a witch of the Outsider. I’m here cause my Master’s called for you.”

 

## The Outsider

 

Sometimes he caught himself looking at the sky; laughable really, the Void always came from the ocean even if from out there it seemed like looking at the world from above. From far at the outside. The further he ventured from the Veil, the colder and more twisted it got. And still the Veil itself has been the coldest.  He clenched his fist, fought the urge to run for his life, run far, far away where the Void can’t find him, where he can forget that coldness instead meeting it again. Still he stayed there sitting by the window in the foyer of his room, looking outside in silence, trying to somehow get a hold over his own body.

Corvo was already at the harbor supervising the preparation of their ship. It will be a two-day journey there, and then… His hand trembled so he clenched it again.

There was two fast knock on the door, Meagan came in. “That Adeline women is here with a witch, an Overseer, and a gangster.”

He almost expected some jokes or question about it, but the woman avoided his gaze. She knew; maybe not in every detail, but she knew the real reason they were going back and decided to not even say a word about it. He wasn’t angry, really, and only slightly disappointed. What could’ve she said? But the feeling of loneliness and isolation hit him hard, like the Veil itself was around him again, like everyone else on the world was far, out of reach no matter how he tried or yearned. The Void all over again, except he felt the body around himself, his own presence still so new, almost tasting like an illusion. He swallowed the pain of it.

“Send them in!”

The four people poured in and lined up before him: Adeline – moving beside him to face the others too -, Uriah and the two additional staying where they were. All worn out, low-key bloody and torn, coming already from a fight. He wondered what kind of life was out there for them, what kind of path was he just about to sentence them to. Would he seal their fate like he sealed his marked’s? Was he making the right decision? And wasn’t this the bitter root of it all, that there was no right decision to make? Not really? There was only decisions and the person who made them. His decisions couldn’t be backed up with security or confirmation. Nothing was sure.

A lonely prospect.

“They are the people from your vision” he turned to Adeline who nodded. The men looked at him with worry: Uriah bowed his head as their eyes met, Obadiah too after a short pause and then Slackjaw grinned ear to ear.

He wasn't really sure he would want any man to glorify him. Never did. Even back then when thirty-six gods ruled the world they were rather like emperors and empresses than deities. The altar thing started with him and as disgusting as that was he wasn’t sure he wanted it back even if he was now a real god to these people.

It made him lose Corvo.

He was about to lose everything anyway.

“What happened?”

Adeline and Uriah told him about the fight with the cult, how both felt the Void there, what they had done, how Adeline saved them. He wondered again whether he was doing any good to them. Probably not. In the same time they were the only ones deep enough in this to be entrusted.

“I’ll give you a gift” he told them “that you can refuse. It’s the Eye of the Void, the ability to see the world and life in its wholeness and consequently with work to make sense of it. To understand why and how thing happen, the real magic. If you accept it your life will be changed; I can’t tell you sadly whether you will be hunted or not, what kind of life you will live; I can't even promise you I can help along the way. But this will be a weapon and a mean in your hands against Void. Of course it is way more than that… and if you accept nothing will feel the same again.”

He looked at them one after the other, measuring them up, getting a feel out of them.

“If you don’t want it, it’s your time to leave.”

A heavy silence followed where all three immersed in soul search and in weighing their options. Adeline stood beside him silently watching the boys too, testing her magic on them clearly. She was strong-willed and determined, was strong enough to be the next Delilah-level witch given the time, but lacked the petty and had too much hearth and awe to turn out like that woman. Still she was biased and dangerous, her adoration of  magic draw a wall between her and other people. Isolation was hazardous to any mind.

Slackjaw was the one who stepped forward first.

“‘M may the least deserving motherfucker here” he played with his suspender in nervousness. “But I ain’t goin’ nowhere. The plate-face bunch can try me.”

He motioned the man forward, put his hands on his head, read him. Unlike some great points in the future the fate of particular people couldn’t be read the Void this close, with so much uncertainty, so he just read the man. Saw him in the distillery, on the streets, working, listening, talking, caring… street-wise. A man who didn’t look down from the top, but paved the way for many from the bottom. A man who could reach places and people nobody else could, holding the base of the city on his shoulders. And he saw something else.

“How did you know?”

This man had been the closest to the truth out of everyone about who he really is, what will come next. Impressing given that even he hadn’t known much of it.

“I’m a smartass motherfucker.” Slackjaw grinned. ”I talk, I listen, have connections. Have talked to a dirty cult from up the mountains who were crazy about some mine, heard some things, figured the rest on my own.”

He gave magic to the man wiping the grin off his face that gave place to silence and dismay.

Uriah were the second stepping forward without objection and that left only Obadiah. The overseer looked at him still sitting by the window, seemed calm but was anything but. He remembered him from the harbor, knew Corvo trusted the man and that in itself would've been enough.

“What are you?” Obadiah asked the same question he asked so many time that last few days.

I am a man.

I am a god.

I am a monster.

I am the Void.

“I am free.” He answered instead. But was he really?

Obadiah searched his eyes, looking for something, he wished he knew what for, but he seemed to find it because he stepped forward with a harsh breath and accepted the magic.

All three stood before him just like before – from the outside; but all three were watching the room now, trying to process the new senses. They all looked up as he spoke.

“This magic can’t be passed on by you, but you can show it to others to make them listen. I would advise caution though: dead can do nothing.”

He stood, motioned to Adeline.

“Come with me!” and to the others. “You shall rest here a bit!”

He left to the other room, Adeline fast in his heels. The room he lived in, Corvo’s former, filled him with regret. He played with the same glass figure he played with that first night that already felt a century ago. Then he needed that thing to make himself feel present, now it was to divert his attention from turning back to stone. Then he just arrived, now he was preparing to leave. Then it was Corvo with him, with his careful gladness and gentle, tentative touches, now it was Adeline, a follower. He wished to have that first night back.

“Adeline” he put the glass figure back to it place. “I want you to teach them.”

“As you wish, Master, but I’m not…”

“I know, but I have to leave now and I don’t know if I can reach you again.”

“Just like in my…”

“Yes.”

“You can’t!” Adeline circled him to be able to look into his eyes. “The Void is coming! You promised you’ll fight, Master, you can’t just…!”

“I will fight, just not from here.”

“In my vision you wasn’t here and the Void arrived. It won't work without you!”

“That was probably from another time. The arrival of the Void may very well be inevitable at some point. I can prevent it now, but although I am a god, in this form I am not for forever. Nothing is. And nobody else has left. As far as we know the Void could have eaten up millions of worlds before and can eat up ten times that in the future. Sometime the most one can give is just a bit more time.”

“But not now! This is bullshit! I know what I’ve seen and that Dunwall wasn’t that different, wasn’t that far!” Adeline turned her head to hide the tears. She seemed so young – was young – despite the things she already went through. “Please, don’t leave!”

It wasn't his decision this time. He put his hands onto Adeline hair, stroked it calmingly.

“The Void will may be sated, but that won’t chase the monster away. That’s your job, the five of yours.”

“It’s been only luck today.”

“That is why you all got what you got, teach them! And if magic comes back, but I don’t…” he looked out of the window to the dark clouded sky. “You all know what that is. Try to make the people fight it.”

He carefully avoided any detail, but Adeline was a smart girl.

“You go back to the Void? Just like this? Abandoning everything? It was Attano, right? That asshole destroys everything he touches.”

“It was not…”

“I’ll kill that rathsit.”

“No, you won’t.” he smiled almost gently. “You will have work here, Adeline.”

Though he did understand how hard it was for her, how he found something great just to lose it a day later. She wasn’t crying anymore but a last tear run down on her cheek.

“I’m afraid.” she breathed.

“I know.” And for a moment he considered giving the mark to her too, but facing what he did it wasn't safe. Who knew what would happen through the mark upon him dying. “I wish I could promise you you won’t be left alone in this even if others will fight alongside you for a time, but I can’t. The Lady Protector here, Meagan can help you in the fight for a next few days.”

“And after that?”

There wasn't a plan for that, couldn’t be.

“You have a life and you will live it best and the fullest you can.” He looked down into those big, dark eyes, the tormented face, the death warrant on her forehead. “You are no heretic Adeline.” he wiped of heretic’s mark burned into the skin with just a touch. “You are the first real human witch in this world and you will live like one. Close your eyes!”

She did and he laid his forehead onto hers, let his magic wash through both of them. He was stronger than some flesh, stronger than the intent that caused the damage, stronger than the past that caused this much harm. Stronger for now, stronger in this… so lost in others.

Adeline was still kneeling on the floor crying, touching her nose and hugging her healed arm when he left. The three man got up as he crossed the foyer but he motioned them to wait longer. He was heading to the harbor where Corvo have been already waiting.

Meagan was nowhere to be found but Emily bid her farewells.

 

## Obadiah

 

His realization came from the combination of five things: what he saw in the distillery with Uriah, what he saw in the eye of the god, what Slackjaw told them about his theories about the future during the wait and the healed Adeline turning up after the Outsider left. Without the heretics mark, without all the damage she had to suffer, without the stigmas of the past. The Abbey was responsible for many good things in the world, it couldn’t have be forgotten, just as the bad things couldn’t be. But this, now… This could’ve been a clean plate for everyone.

The Void in the city was devastating, it would devour the world given the chance.

The Outsider wasn’t the demon he learned about and wasn’t that hollow, dead thing he’s seen in the harbor.

And the world was turning. Will the Void win? Will the Outsider rule? Something in between? Life never will be the same, not for him who got stuck between the Abbey and magic. Not for the Overseer who accepted the Outsider, because he will have to choose a side and there won’t be any turning back from that. Not ever.

What kind of world will come next?

What kind of world would he want to leave for his children?

He was standing before the door of his own house gathering the strength to go in. Tears tried to break free, but he couldn’t let them, not here, not in his own home. The problems of the world had no place to be around his family.

What kind of world wants he for the children?

A better one. A free one. Where life is maybe scarier, because there is a Void, there is something out there tries to eat them and kill them and there were dark times in the past, but the Outsider is human - whether he has a connection to the Void or not - magic is there to understand. To know where you are, who you are, how is the world around you. Change it! Live in it. The Abbey was right, humans are awesome, but life is so much more than plugging the head into sand. Than living blind.

He always urged the kids to ask questions and tried to shield them from the ones they were not ready to face. He and his wife too - with different kinds of questions obviously. Now they could give them the ability to get answers.

What kind of life will his children live?

He couldn’t know, but his decision was already made.

His realization had been the striking thought that the Abbey won’t let it happen. They could fight the Void, they could spread knowledge, could build a healthier future and the Abbey wouldn’t let it happen. Not because they wouldn’t understand but because they would refuse to listen. He told that to Uriah when they had been talking about the next steps after Adeline joined them. The witch offered to do it all as silently as possible, under the radar, hide carefully  and try to make overseers listen. But he knew it won’t work, they didn’t have that kind of time.

All or nothing. For him, a teacher. He wasn’t a fighter, he wasn’t to step forward and preach. He wasn’t one to confront anybody, he avoided conflicts whenever he could even when he shouldn’t. He had been the very definition of peaceful and placid… but the revolution in the Abbey couldn’t be started by a witch; never would work. It will start with the most peaceful Overseer who had too many questions.

Deep down he knew that won’t be a revolution either.

So he came home for his family and have been standing in the door since minutes. His wife opened the door abruptly.

“Why aren’t you coming in?” she asked frustrated.

“Olivia.” he smiled. The woman’s look changed immediately to concerned.

“What happened?”

He loved Olivia, she has been a childhood crush that came true years later, the love of his life, the mother of his children, nine years marriage and he loved her just as much as the day he asked her hand.

“The kids are home yet?”

“They’re playing at the back.” Olivia looked at him suspiciously, but he just nodded, kissed and hugged her, took off his coat and left to greet them.

He played with them all day long, under Olivia worried glances who unsuccessfully tried to find out what happened to her husband. They ate dinner together and just after the kids were put to sleep and both had their showers Obadiah sat at the edge of the bed and told Olivia to sit with him.

“I need to show you something. I could tell you, but you would probably not believe me and I want you to because there will be things happening and I want you and the kids safe, okay? So just… let me show you all of it, please.”

He put his hands onto the woman’s head, let her magic flow showing everything and beyond to Olivia, everything he has seen, everything he has known. That was his magic - he realized – to show and teach and despite everything in that moment he couldn’t have been more grateful.

Olivia saw all of it motionless and even after it ended she just sat there, eyes closed, skin white, overwhelmed with emotions. A single tear run down on her cheeks that was followed soon by others.

“No.” she said and he had no answer for that. “Can’t be… It’s… can’t be… I mean… and... “

“Do you believe me?”

“I don’t want to. It’s madness.” It was madness alright. “You can’t talk about this.” Olivia looked up. “They can’t know you think this, or know this, or this magic thing… For the love of life!” She buried her face into her palms.  

He pulled her to himself, tried to calm her enjoying her in his arms, tried to engrave every little details into memory.

“My dear Olivia… I can’t not talk about it. The others will need at least part of the Abbey in the fight and we have friends there, can’t just let them to die with the order. Those are good people I won’t let them be washed over without a chance.”

“We could tell some people. One by one to the trustworthy deviants some way it can’t be tracked back to us.”

“And I will do that too, but Darling… We have days. We convert as much of the Abbey as we can in two days or that’s it.” Olivia hugged him, almost held onto him. “I don’t want to do it any more than you want me, but… I do this for us, you know that right? I’ll fight for a better place for the kids, for you for ours. I love you.“ He kissed her head. “That’s why I want you to get the kids tomorrow and leave, hide till that better time.”

“What will you do?”

“I will talk to the Abbey. Face to face. I will walk in the front gate, not hiding anymore, not keeping silent anymore and I’ll show what I’ve shown you to as many people as possible.”

“They will kill you.”

“Not if I make them listen first. But, darling, Olivia, you can’t be here when it happens, okay? I know it’s a lot. It’s a lot for me too, but if I’m strong enough, I can make it. I’ll look for you, just...” he couldn’t finish it. He knew he wasn’t strong enough. And there, at night in the silent house with a crying wife and sleeping children he prayed to everything and anything for at least his family to stay alive.

 

## The Void

 

The Void kept count of the kid as one of his monsters. The most interesting one of them: the only one who could see, think and keep a gate for it to the world. It poked the kid sometime, watched him suffer in its frosty grip, other times it let him wander: watch, touch and learn.

He has been its own, but different, strange, he struggled when it poked too much, when it grasped too long, touched too deep. Sensitive little thing, but apart from that just like any monster: cold, aware, hungry.

Oh, it loved the kid, loved that he had his own strength, loved it how he saw and understand the world, loved how cold and damaged he was, loved to probe him open. Of course it had been more like some strong attachment to something interesting than love. He used the kid’s eyes to watch the world: the most horrid things, the most bloody, the most brutal. It rejoiced from agony and from feeling the kid suffer deep inside where it couldn’t reach him just then. Loved to feed on those feeling things.

The kid have been the most interesting thing, so it deserved the best of the best: death and cruelty. But the kid had shown him things too: rise and falls of civilizations, the world how human has seen it. Interesting too, occupied it for seconds. Interesting so much it tried to touch it, tried to reach through the gate, inside the world to touch the shiny, bloody thing-y in there. Touch it and scrunch it a little, but its little black eyed monster held it back every time, restrained it with his own strength, own mind, own body. The Void pushed into him but he persevered: fought the pressure, the will, the want, shown it thing to divert its attention.

The kid protected the world even if he was just as dead as the place he was locked in, but even he hadn’t had the patience to deal with those fool witches reaching inside.

 

## Corvo

 

Traveling with a ship when the Void lurked under the surface should’ve been a bad idea. He still thought it was and his thoughts often wandered toward the sailors whose bodies have been washed ashore just a few days ago. The pictures of that abomination got etched into his mind; and still he almost wished they were eaten here and there to never arrive to that damned mine. The knife burned harder his mind than any picture could.

The coasts around Gristol had been calm still as they departed, although the menacing dark clouds they talked about with the Outsider in the harbor the other day had reached uncomfortably close. He’s caught the whispers among the sailors about it. It has spread that it was the Void just as it became slowly common knowledge that the Outsider was in the city preparing a fight. Maybe it happened due to the work of the witches who had seen the god, maybe it was the answer to the fear settled inside the heart of the people of Dunwall being helpless witness of the end nearing.

And they should’ve been right about not traveling under those sentient clouds on a surging sea with waves greater than some ships through storms coming and going, but it still have been the fastest route and, as it turned out, wasn’t that hard at all. He suspected it to be the mercy of the Outsider standing at the prow in the mild rain and wind watching the dark water and black clouds in the falling night. Thinking about him making the way to the mine easier made him sick so deeply.

He’s been watching him for some time now from the inside with sailors going after their business around him. This was the fastest ship the Empire had, they couldn’t have made it in time without it. The Outsider had been out there for hours now and he should’ve been with him. Should’ve been there for him… to reassure and calm him – what a sick joke. The knife burned his mind and the craving to be with the god was tearing him apart.

His thoughts swirled around the day before when the Outsider hugged him, when he tried to kiss him and calm him and make it right and good again with his words and his body. He wanted nothing more than turning back time to that moment and not turning his head, kiss him, hug him, pull him closer, into the room, down to the bed, upon himself, let the man undress him, taste him, fuck him, let himself love him, let himself forget that it shouldn’t be about them. He wished that so much and couldn’t be done with the knife in his reach. Couldn’t do that to him and couldn’t do that to himself. Just like he couldn’t approach him now all day.

They hadn’t talked about the knife and that was killing him even more.

The night was falling, the deck darkened, it became dangerous to be outside. It was an excuse to speak to him, he needed an excuse for that now… and bravery.

He left the cozy,  warm cabin, wandered out to the rainy night on the billowy, slippery deck. The Outsider must’ve heard him coming but didn’t give any sign of that. His even paler fingers were gripping the railing but he doubted he was seasick. The darkness was thick around them, the only light came from the cabins, water mist splashed up with the roaring waves.

“You shouldn’t be out here!” he called over the waves stopping beside him.

He saw the motion of the gods face turning toward him but he couldn’t see his features in the dark. He wondered if the Outsider can see him. The mark was there to reach him just like he did at the ruins but that too seemed cruel. Reaching for him now as much as he wanted - needed - it wasn’t fair with the knife. With betraying him like he did… like his family did. He felt sick, not from the sea either.

“It is cold a bit, yes. But easier, I distress enough people on this ship, wanted to give some peace to the sailors, they are torn between me and their beliefs in the Abbey enough.”

They have indeed tiptoed around the man all day in fear and awe. Thousands of years of the abbeys doctrines couldn’t be undone with a few words and in the same time it still felt easier like he anticipated. Maybe it was the great threat or the world just starved change. It doesn’t mattered though, they couldn’t do this, the world was more important, they couldn’t wait for the Void to get there and start to eat the world, couldn’t trust in luck that what they are looking for will be there at that exact reachable point in the past, they couldn’t just let the hundreds of years old empire be abolished for the unknown and dangerous. If they fail, they fail everything. Everyone.

The future must be protected for the people even if they will… he will…

He felt sick.

“I will go in shortly.” the Outsider said dismissing him calmly, but he didn’t move, couldn’t, couldn’t leave him there, couldn’t be alone without him.

“I was wondering” he rather said. The god didn’t say anything but he felt paying attention. “where is all the past? You talked about cities and civilizations, gods but none is here, nothing left, not even a tale about them.”

A long silence followed. He knew that too how much his question doesn’t fit the situation, the tension between them. How cruel it was to pretend that everything was alright, but he badly wanted to stay.

“I am the tale that left.” the Outsider answered evenly. “Many things I allegedly had done came from the things and tales of the past, from things the gods actually did. The people believed it all so willingly because there is a shared memory about powerful beings doing shenanigans. And about the rest… there was a great civilization before this one, a different one, but the Void destroyed it all. Whole continents evaporated and from millions there was only thirty-five people left. That powerful is the Void. After the gods recreated humans they came back without their memories of those times and there hadn’t been a lot of them. A few thousand from millions - that much the victors could steel back from the Void before that ate them. Back then life prospered only around the citadel. Many of the people from that time were massacred after Belial failed to give me out - mostly the ones who actually would’ve wanted to remember the gods. The floating city crumbled after my sacrifice burying many under itself… that made most if the isles. The Envisioned leaders were locked up and that left the Abbey and a few thousand people.”

The ship cut through the waves and strengthening wind, the lanterns were swinging, see-sawing the light circles on the deck. The cabin was filled with warm light that beamed on the falling raindrops like gold, but everything else was covered in darkness.

“It was easy to rewrite the memories me being out there. Many blamed the gods for what happened and I was there to take it. The Abbey hated us from the start… Not like we hadn’t done things they could hate, but the victors weren’t bad people, Corvo. The Void above the floating city was almost open, the Void kept them in his grasp, saw through them, needed to be entertained… so they did it and Belial searched for a way to somehow bypass that.”

The Outsider chuckled bitterly.

“I guess I have taken a lot of blame unbeknownst. Not like I cared the slightest. I have never considered myself evil, nor anything nice for that matter, I just… was. Of course I hadn’t known I have the Void in me before.”

“And the Void’s evil?”

From him, who so readily withheld judgment over anything, calling the thing without conscience evil felt strange. Then again, if somebody, he had any right to anything he saw fit. There came no answer though and the silence stretched, became uncomfortable. That and the storm made him think about the mine, made him imagine the road back alone, the man now standing beside him dead: no more talks, no more voice, no more touch, no more glances. It hit him how fast the man became part of his life, how much he wanted him there, how much he needed him. The first night when he appeared in that door, the harbor, the garden, the kiss, their night together, how everything turned to shit, they failed when they would’ve needed to fight together. Has it been his fault? Has it happened because he wasn’t there? When it came down to them, he couldn’t keep his man safe… He felt like the sorrow will break him.

 “We should talk.” he said as quietly as he could through the surging waves.

“No, Corvo... Anything I could say, I do not want to.”

It was him who decided to kill him. For a greater good, yes, just like fucking Belial, but everything else felt suicidal, reckless, incomprehensible. He will turn this back somehow. After. They’ll do it now and he will turn it back somehow, make it work. Somehow. After stopping the Void, saving life. It didn’t make him feel any better and hasn’t even had the right to say sorry.

‘ _...I can’t feel sorry for that, but I am sorry it lead us to this._ ’ - the words ringed in his mind. The lights swang, reflected on the layer of water on the deck, on the raindrops, waves, dark figures were walking in the cabin doing their jobs, but there was so dark out there, so cold. He wondered how cold the Void can be. The Outsider was the only warm thing around. Back then he thought he would feel cold like the ocean, but the man’s skin felt warm and his arms were strong.

He craved to apologize or just to reach out through the mark, instead he left. At least tried to, but slipped with the first step backwards. There would’ve been no fall just a slight stumble, but the Outsider grabbed his arm instinctively to catch him and didn’t let go. The world haven’t calmed, but heartbeats stretched long, beat like a hammer in his chest, in his ear. Still couldn’t see the man’s face.

There was only a step between them, the widest step he ever made, but he did made it. Almost. He couldn’t make the Outsider feel better about this and couldn’t ask for help. So sick, this whole thing was so sick. He hadn’t had the stomach to hug him with the knife in his pocket.

The Outsider touched his face though, stepped closer just the slightest. He smelled like rain, salt and him.

“I know why. If nothing else… I do understand.” The gods fingers run on his face. “Promise me, you will take care of yourself!”

It felt like a damn goodbye, has been a goodbye. He nodded into the fingers, the knot in his throat making it impossible to speak. Just felt the hand tremble on his skin before the Outsider let go of him and left.

He wished he could toss that damn knife into the ocean and let just come what may.

 

## Adeline

 

It dawned and she hadn’t slept a minute spending the past day explaining things to Slackjaw, Uriah and Obadiah - before the Overseer left to his family - then helped Uriah gather the leftover hiding witch groups. Most of them were indeed prepared to fight even if the nature of magic shocked everyone without exception. Hearing about the Void made many to run for their lives leaving the city, mostly families. The ones who stayed were committed to fight with the Outsider. Now they seemed willing, but she knew their willingness will shatter the moment their god disappears.

By nightfall she became too nervous and frustrated to deal with people so she left that to Uriah and spent her night scanning the city. She was looking for the monsters of the Void mainly as the Outsider asked, but her attention has drifted again and again toward the future, to the point which she’s seen with the Outsider. Her power wasn't enough to get close to it without the threat of losing himself in the gravity of the moment, but the goal of all this was to check if the future changed already anyway; if the Outsider is coming back… if that had any consequence for that moment at all. She felt the god on the ocean, but that in itself wasn’t enough. What would they do if…?

The rain drummed on the window of Delilah’s former hiding place, the bed of the great woman was weigh under her but she have been sitting there for so long every inch of her body hurt. She immersed herself again into the magic, run a quick scan on the city. Started to get the hang of this one and that filled her with pride. The ulcers of the Void were still in place, the magic of the other three felt like small fireflies in the darkness although she wasn’t strong enough yet to tell exactly where they were.

A door opened downstairs, steps echoed in the house, she recognized the feel of the presence.

“Uriah!” she called out.

For minutes the steps stayed downstairs then the man climbed the stairs with two steaming mug in hand. She smiled, the man sat next to her to the bed. His eyes wandered over the hectic furniture, boxes, dust and books all over the storage looking bedroom till it stilled on her.

She has been mutilated for weeks but now that she got back her nose and hand felt really self-conscious. Now she had something to be self-conscious about. And she was in the same room with somebody who wasn’t a guard or a teacher, with a really handsome man of all things while she herself fell rather on the unique than the beautiful side of the spectrum. And she was really really stressed and tired.

“How did it go?”

Uriah groaned. “Good? We’re gathering, building an army. The witches are afraid of the Abbey but I’ll have enough man to fight with Slackjaw and Obadiah’s music boxes. I will go back in an hour just needed to eat something at least if I can’t sleep.”

She was grateful for Uriah. As much as she loved the magic, maybe had a greater crack for it than the other three, but had absolutely no clue about how to fight or deal with people. The Outsider trusted him to teach the guys and fight the monsters, but she hadn’t had the experience nor the character to do the latter. When he stumbled out of the Outsider’s room still shocked and despairing Uriah sat her down, heard her out, calmed her then stepped forward firm and sure already listing the next steps, who and what they’ll need. And she was so fucking relieved.

This had been the strength she needed to see. It was never about her not fighting with all she got, she just lacked the mental to lead. She dealt with anything magic related and Uriah came to her for advice, that in itself have been a shock too.

The tea was still hot as she tried to drink but sweet. The sugar in it made her realize how hungry she was really, but hadn’t had the will to get up. The mug got put carefully aside and she leaned back to the mattress groaning painfully.

“What happened?” Uriah looked down at her concerned.

“Sitting cross-legged too much turns you a hundred years old.”

The man smiled softly still with a little bit of worry. “You do look a little worse for wear. Could rest a bit for a few hours, I wouldn’t want the loveliest lady around to pass out on me.”

“Now I’m lovely, hm?” she chuckled sprawling across the bed. She hasn’t considered herself especially lovely, but now was tired enough to just appreciate the compliment. And the man who made it. After the Coven, the prison and the hopeless running it warmed her heart. She hadn’t known she needed some light hearted flirting this badly - especially that she wasn’t the kind of woman to be remarked or recognized at all usually.

Uriah making the first step made her delighted.

“Indeed. Lovely, brave, stubborn in a good sense, the mute girl in the prison. I’ve heard legends after I got locked up.”

Even the mention of the prison made her uneasy. The worst times in her life, the darkest, when her very existence was found a sin, a mistake. Even if that kind of magic came from the Void how dared some conceited strangers act like they owned her, her very mind and soul to order her what to believe and kill her if she dared to think differently, look further. Not letting them rob her her beliefs and not letting get the satisfaction to hear her pain required a totally different kind of strength than the situation she was in now.

She saw now how much of a kid she still was despite the real magic and responsibility. Now had a vision of what kind of woman she wanted to be, what she wanted to do with herself and the world around her, saw the way ahead of herself and that way was long, she had much growing to do. For the god, for herself, for the fight alongside Uriah, for a future…

“I hadn’t known you were at the prison.” she looked the man in the eyes. The house was silent around them, the witches gathered not far from there. The atmosphere felt almost intimate, she felt brave enough to touch Uriah’s knuckles gently. Her visions made her brave and confident in this.

“I was on a different level. Had been a local troublemaker, a big dog here, had killed a lot of them. They wanted to hang me on display but got me some memories before that.” He pulled his shirt a bit lover to show the scars crisscrossing every inch of his body.

“I’m sorry.”

“Naw, I’ve seen yours, mine is just some scars. Makes me rugged, shows that I had a life.”

“Do you have a mark too?”

Uriah huffed. “I’ve many.” He shoved her one a bit lower on his chest. “Guards felt like I would be more handsome if they decorate me at key positions. Had some luck with my face.”

She touched the mark on the man’s chest, Uriah watching her every move. The skin felt rough under her fingers.

“I’m not strong enough to make them disappear.”

“It’s fine. I don’t like it, but my reflection doesn’t let me forget some things at least. I may not give a fuck about the Abbey and I wasn’t their heretic but the way I did things… I’ve been a heretic to the Outsider and that may not matter anymore, but the things I did wrong I want to remember.”

She nodded and smiled slightly especially when Uriah’s fingers started to play with hers too. That man was a mystery even inspected with magic: he played so many roles, so many personalities, a different man to everyone in every situation, the core tangled into so many layers. The laid back, confident guy to others on his level,  the unwavering, untouchable leader to people under him, a serious, unstoppable man for the others above him. He played cocky, serious, innocent, but marched on the streets with his soldiers like a flood, killed without blinking, and saved without one too. He played selfless to hide how much and how hard he wanted things for himself. What did a life worth for a man like this? Much – she had seen it in his eyes. To the man deep down, to the real Uriah, the first one that maybe even he hadn’t know, it worth very much. That man cared and it ingrained itself to the other personalities.

She liked that man deep down, the strength and the mystery of him all. Loved the man she will turn him into.

“I’ve been searching the future.” she said. “Have seen us.”

It was a hard future, dominated almost all scenarios, Uriah must had seen it too.

“Us in?”

“Together. You hadn’t seen it?” she pulled her fingers back, not so sure now.

“I’m not as good in this future seeing thing as you are. Let’s be real, I suck at it, really, hadn’t had the time either. I’m more like I can feel what’s around me, what the people around me will do next, how’re they feeling, what’re they thinking, that kind of things.”

“You know what I think?”

“You think about how much you would want just sleep for a whole week and wake up the Void gone and the Outsider in the city. I don’t even need magic for that.”

She smiled. Uriah was the only one she told where the god went and what was really happening. The plan was to keep it all to herself, but she wasn’t able, needed somebody to talk to. Uriah was attentive, cared for her but she wasn’t sure it was him being a good man or good leader.

“And the thing about the two of us… I’m not against any good thing.”

She smiled again blushing with it slightly. Uriah smiled too, their fingers danced around each other. The silence got deeper, the air heavier, the smiles gentler, but then a yawn defeated the man. He apologized embarrassed and she just laughed. They were both exhausted, beaten and only at the start of an even harder challenge.

She sat up after assuring Uriah that she indeed isn’t offended and finds it cute actually. It was time to get back to work.

“What I was really thinking about is that we shouldn’t fight the cults first.”

“Slackjaw is already there, preparing his men.”

“They are slippery, the more we destroy, the more it gets and we could run after them for weeks without any progress, but the sickness gathered in one place. It is bigger, probably stronger, but there is only one.”

“And that would win us the civils in Dunwall.” Uriah thought that through. “Is it the thing you saw us fighting? Did we win?”

“In some scenarios. I can’t see everything, tried to map what I can, but I’m not that good yet. I made you some sketches about the place and thing though.”

Uriah kissed her on the forehead for that before going through the details and plans.

 

*

 

Some time later, after Uriah had to leave to the witches she was sitting on the mattress again, tea mug in hand gathering the strength to submerge again. The magic washed over her just like before with that clean and light feeling, like light itself. So powerful and additive…

She looked for the fight with the sickness to check if anything changed but couldn’t find anything. No fight, no sickness where it should’ve been. A very bad feeling sat camp in her stomach. She followed Uriah future like a thread... and found the Abbey at the end. Weapons, fire, pain, cries… she saw Obadiah’s mutilated body on the bottom of a cell. He’s talked. They’d made him. Many other Overseers dead just like Obadiah, witches too, Uriah in blood, skinned. She turned to the present in panic, searched, her head felt like it will bust, like the space itself that she tried to cover with magic would crash her. They were coming. Obadiah got caught, got beaten, that stupid, naiv piece of shit and the Abbey was coming. No they knew. Close. Very close. She was too late.

The stairs almost made her fall as she run like mad: down the stairs, out of the house.

“Uriah!”

Through the garden.

“Uriah!”

The witches weren’t far, but they weren’t enough and weren’t prepared. The panic in her voice alarmed the man immediately and he caught her as she got there.

“I fucked up, Uriah, gods. I fucked up, Obadiah talked, the Abbey is coming!”

“Where?”

In that moment watchmen run from three separate directions. “Overseers on their way! At least twenty.”

From one way. At least a fifty total for about a same amount of witches, except they weren’t trained to fight and was surrounded. Uriah knew that too.

“Can we get away?” He looked at her.

“I don’t know.”

“We are surrounded!” Uriah said gravely.

“I know, but I couldn’t see...” he tried to think through the panic, get herself together. Anything she could see was the hard future, the most probable. If they could get away somehow, she hadn’t had the time to check.

“It’s okay.” Uriah said to her brushing a lock gently behind her ear. To his man: “To your positions! We fight the bastards! No Overseer will doom the world again on my watch!” He turned back to her urgently putting a pistol in her hands. “Stay with me! If you see something tell me, but staying alive comes first, okay?” The man looked at her with concern and gentleness. “When I say run, you get away from here, okay? Promise me!”

She did, had no other choice in that moment really. In the next moment Uriah yanked her down into cover. There was no call, no warning, no chance, the Overseers opened fire the moment they set foot to the perimeter. Some with swords fell immediately. Uriah cursed, clutched her wrist painfully, shot back, left cover to help. His magic was enthralling in action, like he was moving always just a second sooner than the danger came, killed Overseers left and right, shouted orders to his men. She stayed in cover, shot sometimes, tried to find possibilities, weak points, but there came many from the Abbey in armor with weapons, trained. The witches were panicking and only the two of them had magic.

Uriah was surrounded he shouted out to her to run just before he got hit by a handle of a sword and fell to the ground. She should’ve run then and there. Should have. She got a duty, she got to fight the Void in the city, she got to survive to do that. But Uriah was on the ground in the circle of Overseers bleeding, the others were dying around them. A massacre. Again. A witch-hunt. When the Void has been already in the city. And they were beating Uriah to death. They were beating Uriah… she saw the man’s skinned corps on the floor of a dungeon.

It won’t happen. Won’t happen again. She was stronger than that, loved her life more than that. They won’t see her break and won’t hear her cry.

She left the cover and shot two attackers before got punched out with the others.

 

## The Outsider

 

 Every step brought him closer to the mine and the closer he got the harder any step became. He hasn't known he had a survival instinct now it felt almost laughable. All this… Every inch of his body cried to run, escape somehow, cling to his life here as he made the steps never faltering or hesitating. He was stronger than his body, stronger than some fears, stronger than some instinct, stronger than death…because of course he won’t really die, or rather not everything will die in him. He wondered if it will be easier or maybe shorter than last time. It would hurt more, that felt unavoidable.

He wished it wasn’t Corvo who’ll do it. For him and for himself too… he wished not to go back.

Corvo was walking beside him but far enough not to touch even accidentally. He refused to come near, lead or follow like a guard. In the silence they both craved voices: reassurance, apologies, goodbyes, touches… Maybe it would’ve made everything harder and he didn’t know what to say. There was too many things on his mind, too much anger, doubt, sorrow and fear, too much god… He wondered where did that strength come from, was him being a god that lead his steps his steps so surely not letting him waver or was it something else? Was there something else? Was the more than the Void inside him? Has ever been?

Corvo glanced at him often from the corner of his eye, waited, hoped, begged almost, begged for him to say something, tell he has a plan, what he will do, how he will defeat the Void in the past. He could’ve told anything reassuringly enough and the man would’ve been satisfied, but he had nothing.

The silence reminded him to that day they arrived to the palace with Meagan when he felt that place for the first time after so many centuries. How every timeline, past and future clashed there, how hard it was to see… and then there was Corvo - from this side of the Veil, real, alive, close. He arrived without expectations and there he realized he came for this, came for him, to him, to meet him, get to know him. He kept silent there because he didn’t want to steer him. If Corvo wanted him, he need to want it on his own – and really he hasn’t known what to say, how to start. The man did turn up on at his doorstep not much later. Getting together wasn’t part of the plan, he had nothing against it, but would’ve never thought he will want the man this much. Emotionally yes, but physically too like he was starving and Corvo… Corvo would’ve been better without him, without this stray creature of the Void.

The thought almost stopped him. The uncertainty felt crashing: who is he, what is he… he didn't want to die. Everything screamed in him and he just went on. On and on through the hills the old mining equipment, the warehouses the place called him like a magnet. He never stopped to look back, hesitate, talk or turn back. Through the entrance, along the tunnels ever deeper into the mountain through the stone of many centuries that buried the past, buried the gods, the Envisioned and a failed sacrifice. Four thousand year towered above them.

Corvo stopped suddenly and he stopped with him.

“I thought a mine would be darker.” he looked around.

Here the place just started to turn into something different. The tunnels broadened the stone changed, the air from ahead felt dead. Like whatever had been in the air outside it wasn’t there anymore. The ritual hold was far too close and he wondered if he will be able to continue now that they’d stopped. He felt the fears and repugnance nailing his feet into the ground.

“It’s the Void eating.” he said eyes wandering on the stone. “There is a scar on the Veil here. It is slow, anybody alive couldn't tell just by looking at it, but the light comes from the stones and air as their matter evaporates… The depths of the Void is dark like the ocean. Where there is nothing left that could die is the coldest and darkest. What you’ve seen from the Void is just a surface, the closest to the Veil, the bright places. Anywhere else it would've eaten you alive in your sleep.”

Corvo looked at him with tension and sorrow, almost shouting like he had reached the end of his patience. Maybe he’s felt the air.

“Why are you like this? Why aren’t you angry?”

“I am angry, Corvo. I am furious, but what would me showing my anger change?”

“I want you to shout with me! I want you to scold me about the knife, tell me you’re disappointed in me, tell me you won’t ever forgive! Just don’t do this what you did with Meagan! You helped her come here to kill you, now you don’t even say a word. I know you know what I did and you’re silent. Be angry! Hate me! Fight me!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! How long could you stay up against me? A second? Two?” He shook his head. “I won’t fight you.”

“I just want you to want to live! Want anything at this point. You behave like you did back then when you were a ghost: like it all happening to somebody else!”

That touched a sour point and put an edge to his voice.

“You think I don’t want to stay?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You think I want to go back there? That there could be anything I would want? That I haven't loved it here with you?”

Corvo averted his gaze and he felt a pang deep inside again. This past day, this won’t be missed.

“Accepting the knife hadn’t been my decision. I won’t beg for my life. And what difference my shouting would make? We are not here because we had nothing better to do. Or do you want to kill me, Corvo?”

The man looked back at him horrified and disgusted.

“You are afraid of me, see me as a threat to the peace of the city, for what you and Jessamine have built up. You find my power intimidating, me dangerous and the future with me in it terrifying for yourself and for the world. You see me as a Delilah only so much worse. You…”

“Stop!” he begged. “Please, just stop. You’re wrong.”

“I am never wrong or please elaborate: which one of those have been untrue?”

Corvo was visibly ashamed and suffering, fighting his own battle deep inside. The mark was silent between them, both of them kept to himself, hiding how much all this really hurt. The man told him he would’ve come to save him from the stone, he believed him, this though was a very different situation.

“Have I really not given you anything to trust me by?”

“Then tell me you can stop this!”

Maybe. If we are lucky, if I have time, if I have the means. – But the words got swallowed decidedly. The future was uncertain, their victory only assured this way. He would’ve chanced the timepiece, but this here and there was the only way that couldn’t fail, that will get the world some time. How much time? What will it take away from him? There was no shield now, no mercy. What will be left? Have that kid been this terrified? Would he have cried and fought if he could? Would he have been strong enough to fight the fears and tears? Was his strength just a sign of how inhuman he really was?

 He had no answers. Corvo couldn’t bear the silence and he marched forward, floh almost. In every other situation he would have called after him, would have comforted him, now just looked after him, watched him leave then followed.

 

*

 

The next place they stopped was already the edge of the mine, the threshold of the great hall that was formed by the Void during the years. Beneath them the path of stones lead directly into the Void, to his late prison, to the place he’s first seen as he opened his eyes just weeks before. Then he would never thought he would see it again. He dreaded to see it now.

Corvo stood at the edge staring into the abyss. He looked old, defeated and cold. It was only bright enough to see, but there were shadows floating behind the physical world.

“When we get there” he said. “You must not stay there for long. This Void is different than the one you’d met in your dreams. You will feel this one. Even the cultists couldn’t stay here, it drow them mad and it haunts Meagan ever since.”

“I’ve accepted it, but don’t want to do it.”

“I know.”

“Please be angry!”

He looked at Corvo and wished he had the strength to explain or at least reach out to him, but couldn’t. They standing there almost felt like the time they were standing at the harbor when he talked about being human the first time, told him the reason he came, Corvo looked at him with so much want… He wondered what kind of life they would have lived here.

“Do you see the shadows?”

Corvo turned his gaze from him with great effort then shook his head.

“Then let me show you something! The Veil is thin and the Void gathers the memories around here.”

He motioned with his hand, closed his eyes to find the Veil, the border between the worlds, touched it, the sensation of the thing responding to him made him smile slightly. As he opened his eyes purple veins covered the surface of the Veil pulsating, running like living things, showing formes, dreams, memories. Light and deep purple, the color of power, magic, wisdom, creativity, royalty and sadness. Countless tones, his energy, his presence, the core of who he was. Has been. The Veil reflected everything, let his spirit run, like a dance, like the most elegant writing.

Maybe he hadn’t had a name. Maybe who he has been has been wiped out of the memory of the world, but his color stayed, stronger than a name, showed who he really was.

The lines of magic met far above them, brusted to a milliard shards that fell back down on the matter of the Veil. Like the dome of a cathedral, like milliard shooting stars brightening the Veil and leaving it that way, opening windows to the Void like a shadow play that somehow slowly becomes reality, the walls disappeared, became transparent showing the Void behind, that vast nothingness above and around them, that nothing, darkness and the memories in the milliard shade purple light. A song of a whale shook the stone and them, the shadow of the giant ancient creature swum above them among the other swirling memories behind the purple stars.

Corvo grabbed his arm staring at the everything around them, eyes wide with amazement and wonder. He smiled gently watching the man not averting his gaze even when Corvo looked at him.

“It’s you, isn’t it? Even your skin shines purple.”

“Yours too, it’s the magic.”

“But it’s you, all this. It’s you.” the man awed and the gentleness in his voice almost made him reach out for him.

“Yes, and my memories.” They could see through the Veil to the memories of the Void, to the ancient place, the stones of the destroyed Floating city, the stones Corvo set foot on many times now and on the stones dwelled the memories. Many of them: wars and soldier, scholars and vagabonds, pain and happiness, childs and old, shouting and laughing and people and animals, and the sun, and the ocean, and time itself, cities building itself up in seconds and a man sitting motionless, elbows on the knees head hanging low. Many things, countless things just floating in the Void, showing themself.

“The world is beautiful around you, Corvo, so much more than any of you think. This world is so big, so filled with life: there is the great ocean, the depths of Pandyssia, other islands, you know only snippets of it. Your people have so much growing to do, discovering to do… And when I say it doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter from the outside, doesn’t matter from there, from a fixed place, where there is no time, no motion, no want, no life. It doesn’t matter because the end is death and everything is just a blink of an eye, but the truth is… The truth is the Void is the one wrong. Maybe life is cruel, but it pulsates, it turns and fights and feels and claws. Governing it, deciding what’s the best for it… I never did that, not from out there where it seems meaningless and cold. The kid loved this place.” he smiled. “And if I’m part of the Void, I am the sickest, most deformed part because I love it too. I am grateful for being able to see it again. And I am grateful for finding you. I wish you would remember this moment when you think back to this day.”

The memories changed around them to more recent years featuring Corvo, Daud, Vera, Delilah, the others from the last decades. There were memories there of all the chosen but Corvo had the most: by the altars, hiding, talking, lying unconscious at the bottom of a pit the Whaler standing guard above him, dying from poison.

Corvo was loss of words and only talking again as he recognised somebody among the memories.

“Is that Jessamine?”

“Yes.”

The woman’s spirit floated in the Void after her death and the thing grabbed her immediately like all the dead souls, poked it, tried to disassemble it, eat it. The fate of everyone’s. Jessamine’s spirit fought it, tossed and shouted reached forward crying to an other shadow, a demon, to him, to the Outsider. But that thing just stood there pale and dead and cold and black eyed. Motionless till it turned to the Veil, to them, to him and Corvo. Devoid of all emotion with a little, cruel smile, black, hollow eyes. Dead in every sense. In the memory the Outsider reached out for Jessamine, pulled him from the grip of the Void, kept her close, healed her, listened to her, listened to her wish to help her lover get their daughter back. A wish of a mother. A wish of a lover. And the Outsider granted it, but that other thing, that dead one was staring at him. A memory? A promise? A reflection?

Corvo couldn’t see it, but his heart beat faster in his chest almost stepped back as the demon stepped forward.

“Has it been your heart?” the man asked as the Outsider in the memory trapped the soul of the woman.

“A heart of a living thing. It has been the kid’s.”

“Aren’t you two the same?”

The memories transformed to others the magic reflecting his soul and thoughts. Now it showed the citadel with its towers and gardens, the city around it, the rocks, the scar on the Veil above it. And it showed the dark haired, pale kid running on the corridors out in the garden, hiding giggling from the adults, drawing, playing with other kids, laughing, lying in a bed reading with toys hidden under the pillow. There was the kid talking back and mocking adults, learning, holding the hand of his parents. Just an ordinary kid, lively, cheerful, like any other.  The faces of the others were so clear before him he could think they were standing before them.

Corvo let go of his arm to step closer.

“Is it them?”

All thirty-five were sitting around a table discussing something, but in that moment all looked at the kid.

“Yes: Iorel the tall one, Belial, Esthel and the others.” He knew when that happened, the meeting Belial first spoke about his plan and the man called him in and he told them… He told them he agrees,  that he will do it, he will let the sacrifice happen. The demon stood at the back of the memory still watching, still smiling, eyes so dark, disregarding everything around him.

“You are very much like them, Corvo, would fit to that table as a fourth leader: Iorel, the Exclusionist, Esthel the Giver, Belial the Negotiator always looking for the optimal and Corvo the foundation that keeps the values of the past in effect. You would’ve been friends with Belial, remind me for him a little, would’ve side with him in search for the optimal.”

The memories changed again and now showed the kid on the streets in a burning city starving and doing anything to survive but without any remorse or thought, any soul. And that demon were circling, touching the kid in the memory, stepping through him meanwhile the kid got caught, trapped, tortured, dragged to the sacrifice. He never really had tried to fight. Struggled once but he failed and realising it’s hopeless he gave up. He wasn’t even sure the kid remembered then it had been partly his idea, he wasn’t sure he cared anymore. And that demon thing got closer. Was it a memory? That soulless kid cried out in fear, Corvo turned to him concerned. That black eyed thing was waiting for him, it stood behind Corvo, reaching out, reached through the Veil to the real world...

“Enough!” he shouted and the magic exploded leaving the Veil, covering up the memories and everything else at the other side. Darkness fell for a minute without the purple flames then the light of the Void eating filled the hall again.

He was panting, his heart beating fast. That thing could’ve came through. It was him. It will be him. When? In days? In moments? In centuries? Corvo was standing before him, but he didn’t noticed the demon.

“What happened?” the man asked, but he just stood there staring at the great grayness and felt a tear running down on his cheek.

“Tell me, Corvo, do you see me as a monster?”

 

## Meagan

 

That day a near hysterical Overseer Olivia Pipe-Wolferstan broke into the Palace with two children under her arms demanding to meet a certain Meagan Foster. The guards were suspicious enough to almost lock her down but some frightened kids would ease the heart of the coldest hearted old guard. Or at least it eased hers. She sat down Olivia, heard her out about what happened to Obadiah - that his husband left that morning to meet some people who has been more or less on the same page about the Abbey as him and then with those two dozen people they marched into the Abbey to show them the world, the magic and what they were facing.

A family friend and Obadiah’s subordinate who helped her husband managed to get away and warn her, help her leave the city with the kids, but got killed when the Overseers came after them and Olivia refused to leave her husband in danger. She was an Overseer too; he faced shit every day with Obadiah and wouldn’t hide behind a rock in danger.

She told about all this to Emily who got furious, forbid her to go to the Abbey right away and steel the man back, instead she wrote a letter, called all his advisors to her office and closed themself up for all day. This was hard to explain to Olivia and the only thing she could encourage her was to trust in the Empress, she is on their side. I she wouldn’t have been Lady Protector, she would’ve went for the man already, then again if she wouldn’t have been she probably wouldn’t have cared.

 He knew Obadiah or at least has seen him, knew the Outsider trusted him with magic, what he did… she still wasn’t sure if it has been brave or crazy. Some mix of the two. But since then notes were flowing into the palace about fights at the Abbey headquarter itself and in the city. Whatever Obadiah did, it had some aftermath at least.

As she could see it now marching in the ring of palace guards on the corridors of the great building among the signs of fight: weapon marks on the walls, blood on the floor, broken furniture. Overseers were following them but with the Empress in the building they had to obey her. Obadiah stirred the waters and it seemed he could indeed reach many people. She would’ve never thought she would find the Abbey fighting itself. Obadiah will be remembered as the greatest revolutionary or a demon in human flesh depending on… She wanted to say if they win, but they had to survive at all first. The storm that started earlier that day and have been harmless back then got harder with every minute, the skies turned dark like the night arrived early; rainwater flow on the streets like the ocean itself flooded the city. The cries of the wind and the pounding of the rain could be heard even down in the Abbey basement where the prisons were.

A thick metal door opened before them, the darkness of the prison greeted them with the eyes of the dogs reflecting the light of the lanterns. The main lightning got turned on and they blinked in the sudden brightness together with the prisoners who started shouting immediately some of them tried to warn them about the Void. The cells were full with Overseers and witches some of them still in uniform others bleeding, beaten, some not even moving anymore. The smell of blood, fear and anger filled the basement.

She stepped forward; the guard captain behind her followed her as a shadow.

“Open the cells!” she ordered to the Overseers, urged them when they didn’t move immediately. to the guard captain he said: “Gather all of them, the injured be escorted to the hospital, the others to the palace!”

She watched as the others obeyed, the cells were opened up; the guards helped the injured, escorted the rest and gathered the dead. Her thoughts wandered to Corvo and the Outsider whether they were… she knew Corvo talked to the Envisioned, but she couldn’t be sure what he decided, hadn’t had the strength to ask. She wondered what the god would say about what happened here, would’ve he helped the witches now, would he have massacred the Abbey at last, will he come back? they were playing a dangerous game and she felt lost. More lost than ever in the past years stuck between the shitstorm of what Emily was about to do and what happened with Corvo and the Outsider. She felt powerless in this even if the god’s mark kept the whispers of the void far away.

“Where are the others?” she turned to the overseers as the guards were just about to finish. The overseers exchanged a look, she huffed. “Don’t even start this fuckin play with me, I know they are here.” She felt their powers from not afar, all three. “Bring me to them!”

The overseers led them to another block deeper down under the ground. The noise of the storm were left behind at last but she wondered if the sewers could flood the place, the floor and the walls seemed wet but maybe it was due to something else. The three prisoners were locked up in separate cells behind solid iron doors. As the doors got open the sound of music boxes filled the corridor.

She felt her magic dissipating and the familiar sensation of something trying to claw its way out of her head and chest.

“Turn of those things!”

Adeline was bound to some construction limbs in unnatural almost unbelievable positions, nude, eyes and mouth covered, long iron thorns at her back made her bend forward wresting the limbs even more. She was still bleeding at places.

“Let her go you sick fucks and get her some clothes!”

She helped too and it was she in the end who gathered Adeline in her arm to get her free from the chair and took off the blindfolds. The girls hugged her upon recognition and somewhere in the depths of her mind she wondered how long it had been since she held a woman in her arms. It wasn’t the time and place and it had been only a passing thought anyway.

“The others?” Adeline asked her voice sounded coarse.

“We are going for them.”

Uriah was found in a very similar position with more scars and was helped by Adeline. The two assisted each other even in standing up, their bound legs unable to keep them up without help, but they followed on their own feet. Obadiah on the other hand was lying on the bottom of the cell in his own blood already tended by the guards.

“How is he?” Uriah asked.

“Have been better.” Obadiah groaned from the ground.

“You should’ve told us!” Adeline seemed furious, but she guessed half of it was concern and fright. “What did you thought? You put everything at risk for what!”

“For the Abbey…” It was seemingly hard for the overseer to talk. There was a lot of blood on the floor and the look of some limbs and features of the guy she was pretty sure the man won’t get out of here with all parts intact. One of his arms was definitely a goner white bones sticking out of the flesh and one of his eyes was missing. “You wouldn’t have cared for the Abbey… but you needed them… they’re not bad, they’re just… taught to think this… I want change, but I love them and I… couldn’t just left them… we needed them.”

The overseer tried to breath but his chest was crushed and one of the guards held him up to ease him. Uriah kneeled beside him, grabbed his good hand.

“They got us, killed many, but they were fighting already as we got here, a bunch of them tried to save us.”

“Good.” Obadiah tried to smile but didn’t have the strength for it. “And you’re fine.”

“They are.” she joined in. “And the Empress herself is here to mend the situation you will be escorted now to the hospital. You will be put together then we’ll talk.” on instinct she added. “Olivia is in the palace with the kids, she is safe.”

Obadiah looked up at her gratefully before the guards gathered him up from the ground with painful grunts. She grabbed the guard captain’s arm.

“If he dies you all are dead man, you hear me? Guard the hospital; don’t let the Abbey get to them!” The guard saluted and she sighted as they left with the bleeding man. She wasn’t a doctor but was sure that man had less than an hour to belled out and die, if he doesn’t die on the way to the hospital… she turned to Adeline and Uriah now wearing some ugly overseer cloths.

“Are you fine enough?” Uriah nodded. “Then you come with me to the Empress!”

 

*

 

As they got closer she heard Emily almost shouting from the High Overseer’s office.

“It’s decided High Overseer, the council approved it this afternoon and the law will be registered tomorrow. I won’t tolerate the way things are done here and I won’t tolerate your disrespect!”

She knocked and in the second deep silence from the other side Emily called her in.

“I took care of the prisoners.” she reported with the two witches behind her.

“Overseer Pipe-Wolferstan?”

“He wasn’t in the state to join us tonight.”

Emily’s eyes were shooting daggers to the High Overseer who was standing behind his desk face red, posture strained and uptight with indignation.

“It won’t change a thing.” the Empress said. “The Abbey of the Everymen in officially disestablished in the time of this crisis and its role will be revised after that. I want a new organization leading the people of Gristol and fighting the coming fight: the Heart of the World lead by Lord Pipe-Wolferstan uniting witches and overseers.”

“It won’t work, the people need the Abbey.”

“And they will get something even better.” The empress nodded.

The high Overseer seemed like he will protest, continue a very long and hard battle, but Emily spoke up before the old man could say anything.

“Now that it’s decided, Lord Payne I must ask you to leave and hand over your office to the officers.”

The High Overseers left the room bewildered but powerless for now. He closed the door behind himself like a true gentleman but a look on his face made all of them sure it wasn’t the end of the fight.

“You won many enemies for you tonight.” she remarked. Emily massaged her own temple.

“Yes. Half of Gristol I would imagine. It’s temporary for now, we can keep this up maybe until the Void is dealt with without civil war, after that….” she sighed. “But anyway. The Heart of the World, it’s official. Obadiah will lead it and it’s yours Meagan until he is fit for it.”

If he ever will be - but she would rather not say that here and now, they had enough ship on their plates.

“Lord Betteridge, how about our forces?”

Uriah straightened partly because he got lordship in an instant and because he must have been mad not to under the piercing gaze of the Empress.

“Slackjaw is gathering survivors and anyone willing to fight out there, but we’ve lost many today.”

“Some of the Overseers already volunteered, they will stay here, fight with you and aid you. They will be under your command. Lady…” Emily turned to Adeline.

“Dawenport.”

“Lady Dawenport, you will get an office here. I want to know about everything you find out. You will use this building as your Headquarters, make a list about all the things you need and I will lent you part of the palace’s staff to keep things running. And now I imagine you would want to a few hours rest, a shower and checking on your friend.”

The two witches left and Emily sighted again sitting down into the High Overseer’s chair. She poured some brandy for both of them and sat onto the desk next to the Empress.

“I wanted to do this since the Outsider helped my father, but never had a good enough pretense. “Emily sipped from the brown liquid keeping it in her hand. “Do you think I’ve made a mistake?”

“Only time would tell. Though we need them to fight freely for now.”

“The Outsider wouldn’t gave them magic if he wanted them not to use it, yes.” the Empress nodded, but she just grimaced.

The departure of the god left a sore spot in her. She hasn’t said goodbye, hasn’t fought Corvo not to side with the Envisioned, hasn’t told anything to the Outsider despite their past and the now almost familiar feeling the man. She’s turned her back like anybody else and now felt disgusted with herself. The mark on her hand reminded her in every waking minute.

The picture Corvo painted for the future scared her, but if somebody she would’ve to fight for the life of that man. She was too ashamed to talk about this with Emily.

“You sure you want to call them the Heart of the World though?”

Emily thought that through shuffling the liquid in her glass.

“Yes.” she said at last. “Because I was thinking about all this, about the past the Outsider and the Envisioned talked about, about the gods. And it’s a statement. Because maybe the Void has an eye and can see, but it cannot feel. Maybe an eye is impartial and sees everything, maybe led by only an eye could save us trouble, because feelings could lead one away from the good and easy path. Because feelings complicate things, but an eye on its own is just that: an eye. Dead and lifeless. They will be the heart of the world: with the eye of a hearth, the compassion of a hearth, the love of a hearth and the beating of a heart to always remember: what identifies us is the love of life and the love of the living: not regret, not some rules, not the search for some optimal future and especially not some agenda against others.”

 She looked down at Emily who looked back challenging and said nothing. It was about countering the dead and lifeless, gaining the Eye of the Void and completing it with compassion and love. Completing the impartial with the crazy like Obadiah walking into the Abbey, Emily facing war, and however Adeline and Uriah got to prison. And what did she loved? Maybe the promise of a new future. A future here where she don’t have to run and surrounded with people accepting her and her past.

Love made you do the crazy, and that crazy moved the world forward, will save it maybe, as a love of a child saved it once.

The realization of the things they did would never persist without the Outsider coming back and fighting a way everyone can see filled her with fright. They all depended on the Outsider. And they all depended on Corvo. That should’ve been a reassurance but it wasn’t. She hadn’t known how much it isn’t until later that night her mark disappeared.

 

## Corvo

 

Do you see me as a monster? – it echoed in his heart and mind. Was he a monster? A monster of the Void that terrorized the city.

He wasn’t.

Of course he wasn’t. It was ridiculous. So fucking ridiculous – he thought – and his own fears too. The Void was one thing, but the Outsider wasn’t some crazy psychopath – and neither had been Delilah. He was powerful, alone, confused searching for himself and for his place in the world, was powerful above measure but that purple hasn’t ever wanted any harm. He didn’t know every detail but he _knew the man_ , should’ve known him and he would’ve if he hasn’t been so deep in his own shit. Even as trapped in the Void, even in those memories, even fighting the Void… the world would’ve changed but the Outsider wouldn’t want harm. And change would’ve come anyway at some point, because that’s how life worked: it terrified him, felt so wrong and strange to have the opportunity to live a free life where he don’t have to look behind his back all the time, where he has somebody he can love openly, freely, somebody who wants him to open up, seeing the world turn… So fucking terrifying not because of the Outsider but because he can’t let go of the old habits even if he hates them. Can’t let rein go even if the horses are dead.

And the god would’ve loved him anyway.

But now they were standing at the middle of the ritual hold, not because of his fears but because of the Void that needed to be defeated on the sure way, easy way, that would save the most, that would change the least – keep the power, keep the Abbey, keep the… Even if he knew he would hate every living breath he takes after this, every step he makes. The stones holding once the Outsider morphed into the altar and both of them were watching that now, have been watching since long minutes in the purple-isch light among the shadows of memories showing through. The Veil was even thinner there but the gnawing of the Void couldn’t compete with the gnawing of his own heart. Has this been what Belial went through? Has it been this feeling that broke that god?

The Outsider’s hands were shaking so he clenched them. The shadows drifted closer like they were standing around them still at the other side, but if Daud’s spirit could came through once… If the Veil was thin enough.

“I told you nobody could see his own path or future” the Outsider said eyes on the altar. “but this place… I think it’s different, time is stirred. Fractions of happenings float everywhere.”

“What do you see?”

Hopeful, so damn hopeful waiting for just half of a sentence that asks him not to do this, that gives him a reason not to, but the Outsider kept silent turning his gaze from the altar with effort to look at him. His eyes shined fully blown black, his form resembling his ghost form from the first times confronting him of the realization of how much he really changed in that past week. He almost begged to the god to not make him do this.

“I let you, because I’m terrified.” the Outsider said “I’m terrified to go back and I am terrified to doom the world with my decision made in fear. I can’t see and think past my fears. I should. But I can’t. And I can’t decide to go back even if it is the optimal future that will save the most. I have chosen you and you proved your judgment. If you say this is the way… then I will let you. But I will not ask for it, won’t make it easier, so just…” he gestured vaguely.

If he ordered, the god would’ve taken his place on the altar and he could’ve started the ritual, he should’ve.

“I will take your mark before that.”

He hadn’t had the strength to protest. Tried to gather his strength, his will, his determination but everything felt shallow. Has this been the thing that stopped Belial? That in the end he loved his son too much to send him there, like he would’ve loved Emily too much? Would he sacrifice a kid for the life of strangers, for an optimal future? Would he sacrifice his lover? His friend? The Outsider said he was like the gods, he was like Belial, but Iorel was cold, Esthel thoughtless and the feelings got the better of Belial. Was he really like them? Did the Outsider really saw them in him? He was about to leave him on his fate just like his parents, but if Belial could’ve done what he’s planned, if he hasn’t been weak, if he hasn’t given up on his visions in that last moment… then what? What would’ve happened? If the Envisioned could’ve sacrificed the kid immediately what would’ve changed? If he dies without the knowledge of Iorel banging that door and Belial choosing his son - even if he has been unable to care in that moment - would he fought for them for so long, would be the same man? A man who cares, a man who loves and decides driven by this love even if it’s means his death.

The knife almost burned his hand, but the crystallizing realization did burn his mind – or was it just fears?

Because optimal future was bullshit, it was just numbers; it was cold and inconsiderate and fuck it. Fuck that so much, because maybe life is cruel, but it pulsates, it turns and fights and feels and claws and it can’t be poured into numbers and measurements and facts and safe plays. Cause pursuing the optimal only made you cold like the Void. Did Belial realize that too? And even if he didn’t in the end maybe he has been the only one who hadn’t failed, who stayed human enough, alive enough, warm enough. They didn’t know, couldn’t know. And no it was his to decide.

He wanted to step for and say something, anything. It has been still about the lives of millions, about unsure paths and blindness and free fall and risk and big steps and… but then the shadows left the Void, encircled them: huge, noname, deformed creatures, animals, humans, the darkest things anyone could ever imagine.

The monsters of the Void still there - he realized - and among them there was the demon, the Outsider. That thing left the circle; approached them. It almost seemed like the real god will back away toward him but then he stepped forward to face that thing. They were so different; his lover seemed so fragile, so small compared to that thing he will turn into with time. The Outsider raised his hand and the demon mimicked, they were standing close, the demon circling.

“Stop!” he ordered before their hands touched. Two pairs of deep black eyes turned to him. “Back away!” he said to his man, but it felt harsh, unworthy. “Please…”

That demon, that thing, it was the Void. It came for him. He felt his soul shaking.

Forgive me, be angry, be disappointed. But the Outsider knew, he saw it in his eyes. They were risking millions of lives. His daughter’s life. The isles, the world. Millions. The safe for a ray of hope, but they couldn’t have beaten the Void in its own game, nobody could, not the gods, not the Outsider, not him. Can’t fight cold with cold, calculating with calculating. The only thing the Void lacked was the love of life and the crazy. The crazy of choosing that ray of sunshine that will change the world.

And the Outsider saw it. The demon too, it attacked in the moment the god turned his back but the knife was waiting for it. He sank it in his chest deep and killed it, like he could’ve killed the Outsider. The mark broke in that moment, felt the loss, the heavy presence of the Void hitting him in an instant, like he went blind, deaf and stupid suddenly. Even breathing felt hard. The other monsters attacked too at that and he throw himself to the Outsider trying to shield him, protect him from the claws and fangs, pulling the man to his body on the ground, but the black eyed demon evaporated at last vanishing with the knife in his body and with the monsters, the Void, the everything and the ritual hold turned black, even the light of the Void eating disappeared.

In the darkness and utter silence only their breathing could be heard for minutes. He felt the stones under him, the shaking body in his arms but they could have been anywhere, buried in the depths of a mountain. He wasn’t even sure they didn’t die, but the loss of the mark still pulsated through his body. He closed his eyes, pulled the body closer, felt the hard beating of a heart, the trembling of a shoulder, the tears as he kissed his cheek. It was done, it has been decided and in that single moment he felt calm and relieved. The faint purple glow surrounded them as he opened his eyes again. It came from the Outsider’s hands, the god laying his head on his shoulder but moving as he did, touching their foreheads together sitting on the ground facing each other.

Minutes passed. Many heartbeat.

“You closed the gate.” the Outsider’s voice was quiet even in the deep soundlessness.

“What did I kill?”

“My reflection, the demon I should have been, the black eyes, the last string binding me here.”

He was shaken physically and mentally and he pulled him even closer, embraced him tighter. He couldn’t asses all this in that moment, what that would mean, how it will be, the only thing he understood was the body in his arm, the faint glow, the arms hugging him back and the closed gate, the presence of the Void vanished, even the air felt different.

“The timepiece…”

“I have it.”

A nod was the most he was capable of. The Outsider was quick enough, strong enough. They could still make it, winning the war on their own way, they will do it, go back, fight it, hope to… He begged they would make it. And he prayed the sacrifice they will have to make at the end won’t be heavier than the one he hadn’t done today.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course there has been a reality where Corvo decided differently – which was the more frequent scenario actually. In that he accepted the resemblance to the gods of the past, decided not to repeat their mistakes and will save everybody and their time. In that scenario the knife struck down and the ritual has been completed leaving him alone in the mine with a broken soul and heart but with the faith of have done what’s necessary. The Void pulled back from the world the Outsider and his death being strong enough to make it satisfied with the renewed connection to the living.  
> Corvo arrived home alone to face the consequences of Emily’s bold decision of disbanding the Abbey. With Meagan’s and his mark gone and only four people touched by the Outsider it hasn’t been enough to keep the change. He managed to keep Emily on the throne but her power got desecrated beyond saving. He himself became never able to talk about what happened in the mine and never have found a way to unmake it either before he died in old age broken and alone.  
> Meagan left just a few weeks after Corvo’s arrival not having the stomach to face the man or herself in the mirror. The call of the Void never left her though and for her old age she did turn to witchcraft that infiltrated the world again through the Outsider. Her body was washed ashore not far from Karnaca without ever been brought to light what exactly happened to her.  
> Obadiah was killed in the hospital in a day after the Abbey regained its power; his family has been killed in hiding a year later. It was covered as robbery but everyone knew it was the revenge for treason from the Abbey. Adeline and Uriah tried to save what they could from the sidelines, fought the reemerging witchcraft together but were forced to hide for the rest of their lives; and Slackjaw just disappeared one day saving his life.  
> The Outsider never appeared again draining too fast to be able and being too used to want to. The first death had broken his shield but the second had broken something way deeper inside and after almost two-hundred years later when a hiding witch managed to summon him, he was nothing more than that black eyed demon of the Void with a grin he has seen that day, with a hunger and without a soul.  
> Some other few hundred years later the Void pushed its head into the world again.


End file.
